


don't threaten me with a good time

by sure sure (getoffmysheets)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Don't Try This At Home, Drunken Shenanigans, Hopper is So Fucking Done with these two, M/M, So Many Hangovers, so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-11-27 21:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmysheets/pseuds/sure%20sure
Summary: Featuring: Hopper being an exasperated dad, so many bad life choices, cross dressing, horrifying amounts of booze, regrettable amounts of hangovers (and vomiting), awkward moments dialed to Eleven, and dumb boys kissing.





	1. you might pass out in a drainpipe

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Panic! at the Disco song "Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time" which basically explains the whole plot if I'm honest... 
> 
> It's a pretty good description for these guys in general xD

_this night is heating up, raise hell and turn it up_  
_ saying “if you go out, you might pass out in a drainpipe!”_  
_ oh yeah! (don’t threaten me with a good time)_

Steve started to groan but making the vocalization hurt both his throat and his head. God, how much did he have to drink last night? His head pounded, his eyeballs ached, his mouth felt like something had died in it, his stomach felt itchy, and his scalp ached. Even more curiously, the person he was laying on smelled like Marlboro Reds, cologne, and vodka sweat. And since they were both shirtless, he was willing to guess the person he’d passed out on was a dude.

Trying to get up and figure out where the hell he was and what the hell had happened made the room start spinning so badly that Steve sank back into his living pillow with a tiny moan of pain.

Beneath him, the pillow grunted: “Stop moving.”

Steve paused. That couldn’t really be…?

He cracked his eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of blond curls and a long silver earring. Oh sweet Jesus Christ.

“Why’m I laying on you?” he asked, barely able to mumble the words through his nausea. He breathed in more of the smell of sweaty boy, cigarettes, and vodka and it was actually helping a little bit. At least, it was staving off the panic attack he could feel waiting for him beneath the hangover.

“No idea,” he grumbled back. “But I’m only saying this one more time: stop moving.”

“Wh-” Steve froze midsentence, a shocked sound trapping itself in the back of his throat. Slowly and quietly, as though trying not to frighten a small animal or a child, he said “Do you seriously have a boner right now?”

“You have one too, genius,” Billy snarled back. “It’s called morning wood. Why the fuck do you think I told you to _Stop Moving_?”

“Oh my god,” Steve moaned, hiding his face deep in the smoke-scented cloud of Billy’s hair. “Oh my god.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, it’s a hard-on not the end of the goddamn world.” He can practically hear Billy’s eyes rolling. He’d be impressed if he weren’t so busy freaking out. “Take a fucking chill pill.”

It’s a stupid thing to admit out loud, but in his defense, Steve’s not sure he’s ever been this hungover in his life. “No – fucking – _Hargrove_. Listen to me. I have dried jizz all over me and the back of my throat kinda hurts. I think we had sex last night.”

There was a long and deliberate pause in which Steve has time to realize that was probably not something he should’ve admitted to Billy Hargrove, when Billy started laughing, the wild hyena cackling that made Steve’s shoulders tense up. He hissed through his teeth as the contractions of Billy’s stomach brushed over his cock, the friction making it give a hard kick. “Stop- stop- oh god…”

Billy shifted beneath him and they both gasped as their dicks aligned to rub against each other. He gave a half-hearted attempted to push Steve off him and Steve grabbed his arms. “Don’t-oh god, don’t move,” he moaned, still hiding his face in Billy’s hair. “If I move, I’m seriously gonna hurl right now.” 

Billy made an impatient noise, sucked through his teeth, and Steve yelped as a pair of broad palms grabbed him by the ass and shoved their crotches together. “My dick doesn’t really care if you’re Steve Harrington or Molly fucking Ringwald. Biology is biology, so if you’re gonna lay on top of me, you’re gettin’ me off, Harrington.”

Steve yelped again, grabbing the arm of the sofa over their heads, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched tight. Distantly, he realized that they must be in Steve’s own living room. “Fine, alright, you can get your fucking rocks off,” he hissed, fighting both his weak stomach and his throbbing cock. “But you gotta- you gotta go _slower_.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this not romantic enough for you?” Billy sneered. “Let me just light a few candles for you, princess.”

“Do you _want_ me to barf on you?” Steve demanded, fingernails gouging the leather upholstery on the armrest. He still couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open longer than a few seconds, his skull pounding behind the tightly closed lids. “Do whatever you want, okay, but _slow the fuck down_.”

To his enduring surprise, Billy actually listened to him.

Steve hadn’t really considered how much fucking worse that would be. Now that he didn’t have to fight with his nausea, that just left Steve laying on top of him, nearly every part of their bodies touching. Billy’s hands on his ass felt huge, hot even through his cotton briefs, splayed over him, the tips of his fingers almost touching his asshole. It gave Steve an odd shiver up his spine.

He felt awkward, a blush blooming from his cheeks and scalp all the way down to his collarbones. Their chests were rubbing together, dragging his nipples over the hard surface of Billy’s skin. He swallowed down a moan, but they were pressed so closely together that he was sure Billy would be able to feel how hard his cock was twitching.

He-he’d never done anything like this. He and Tommy had jerked off in front of each other like…two summers ago, but they hadn’t been in each other’s space like this. It wasn’t anything like being with a girl – and not just because Billy had different equipment.

They didn’t kiss or trying to explore each other. There was just Billy’s hands guiding Steve to move where he wanted while both of Steve’s hands remained clinging to the arm of the sofa. Even so, there was a strange kind of intimacy to it.

They were plastered together from head to toe and their mouths were right next to each other’s ears. Steve heard every grunt and groan Billy made and he was certain that Billy could hear him panting, hear the tiny moan hidden in every exhale.

Billy…Jesus, Billy’s cock felt so good, too, pressed right up against his that way. So good that the hands on his ass stopped guiding and started just holding on when Steve began to roll his hips himself, panting faster and moaning just a little louder in Billy’s ear.

Steve felt the edge of teeth near his skin and shuddered. “Oh fuck, yeah,” Billy groaned into his shoulder, biting him lightly. The hands holding Steve’s ass fondled him a little. “That’s it, there, there. C’mon, princess. C’mon, princess.”

A sob emerged and Steve’s fist hit the armrest as he came in his underwear, thighs shaking around Billy’s hips, whining against his neck. A sharp pain pierced his skin as Billy bit into his neck, his cock throbbing fiercely against his lower belly.

Steve nearly broke both his legs on the coffee table but managed to make it to the kitchen sink before he puked. When he was certain he’d vomited everything he’d ever eaten since the eighth grade, Billy was no where to be found. His couch smelled like cologne and jizz. Steve would have to remember to clean the leather off before the next time his parents were home. He’d also have to hope that the gouges he’d made in the armrest would fade away.

Since he was covered in at least two of his own orgasms, Steve’s next stop was a lukewarm shower, where he stood in the tiled stall like a fucking zombie, occasionally opening his mouth to suck down mouthfuls of water to alleviate his headache.

Urgh, fuck booze. Fuck drinking. Fuck parties. Fuck Billy Hargrove…so much.

_You’ve already done that_, his brain reminded him, oh so helpfully.

He checked out his reflection in the bathroom mirror after rinsing himself off. Steve had bruises on his ass and thighs shaped like Billy Hargrove’s fingers, his scalp still hurt a little bit and apart from the giant teeth marks in his neck, he also had several hickeys on his neck and shoulders and even one just below his left nipple.

Grimacing, Steve gently prodded the bite mark. Christ, he felt bad for the girls Hargrove slept with if this was the way he treated his sex partners. Steve looked like he’d been mauled by an animal.

“_C’mon, princess. C’mon, princess_.”

His dick gave a hard twitch. _Oh fuck me_.

And thus began the weirdest summer of Steve’s entire life.


	2. with the perfect view

_I wanna wake up_   
_ Can’t even tell if this is a dream_   
_ How did we end up in my neighbors pool?_   
_ Upside down, with the perfect view_

Billy gets flashes, now and then. Brief glimpses of what happened that night. Nothing very clear – a blurry recollection of Harrington’s front hallway, crowded with people. Making out with some topless brunette in the kitchen. And Steve.

Always, always Steve.

Bright doe eyes and laughter, mouth all pink and cotton-candy sweet, and Billy just wanted a little taste. Just a tiny one.

Even drunk off his ass, he was smart enough to know that he couldn’t shove his tongue down Steve’s throat in front of people, so he waited until the stragglers have left and expected to be popped in the face anyway.

He doesn’t remember kissing him, which was a real shame, and he _really_ doesn’t remember taking their clothes off, but Harrington was dumb enough to admit the back of his throat hurt. Billy had to stop thinking about that any time he was near Max or out in public because he started to chub up _immediately_ if he let himself dwell on that.

Actually, Maxine thought he was 30% more feral since summer started because he’d started randomly smacking the steering wheel or stomping on the floor mats in the middle of driving, trying to push down the hazy image of a spit-slick mouth. Of ‘_do whatever you want_’. Of Steve Harrington’s cute little heart shaped ass flexing under his palms. 

Billy felt _cheated_, downright robbed of the memory of watching those candy-pink lips wrapped around his dick. Christ, he must’ve fucked his face, really used that gorgeous mouth if Harrington was sore enough to notice the next morning. Did he come down his throat? Or was part of the jizz dried down that soft pale belly his?

And how did Harrington end up passed out on top of him?

Did the pretty princess get turned on sucking him off? Did he climb in Billy’s lap and let Billy watch while he stroked his pretty cock? Or maybe Billy stroked it for him, jerked him off so that his princess could make those little panting moans in his ear, all desperate and squirmy.

He had enough time to let himself think during his shifts at the pool that he had the precise sound of that panting little moan the princess made when he was gagging for it practically etched into his brain. Billy’s ears are still tingling and burning with the memory of his hot breath, all whining and shaky.

But Billy burned with his own curiosity, still. Did he like it rough? Billy could be rough. He could pull his hair and call the princess his little cockslut. He could leave a fucking mark. Or would he need something gentler? Billy could be…he could be… okay, he had no fucking clue how to be gentle, but he could use a more delicate hand with princess. Billy could worship all that creamy white skin until the princess begged him for it.

Jesus Christ, nothing in his life was fair.

_At least I remember touching that cute little ass_, he thought, watching the ass in question wriggle around the public pool in a pair of tight blue speedos that was making it hard for Billy to sit with his legs open. Stretching over those heart-shaped cheeks and showing off those creamy thighs. God, he loved this job.

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” Henderson said as they walked out from the men’s locker room, waiting for the others. He gave a little tug on the t-shirt’s collar. “What’s that thing on your neck?”

“Will you quit it?” Harrington grumbled, putting on his Ray-Bans. Billy tried not to grin, though he could feel the desire to bare his teeth with possessive satisfaction.

Henderson made an odd expression, halfway between a pout and a frown. “You aren’t getting all self-conscious and embarrassed about your moles again are you, Steve, cause y’know-”

“Dustin, I love ya, kid,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath the sunglasses. His face was getting pinker with every word. “But I need you to shut the fuck up right now.”

With a displeased noise, Henderson ignored the command. “They do _not_ look like you have skin cancer, Steve. Tommy H is just an asshole.”

Oh. _Oh_. That was good to know. Billy was going to take immense pleasure in rearranging Tommy’s face the next time he saw him. The benefit of having a reputation for being a raging psychopath was that he didn’t even need an explanation for doing it. That freckle-faced dick for brains had no business making fun of the marks on anyone’s skin anyway. He had no right to criticize what Billy would _bleed_ to touch again.

Harrington groaned “Dustin, seriously…” before rolling his eyes and stripping the shirt off. Billy echoed his groan and resisted the urge to reach down and grab himself through his lifeguard swim shorts.

God, his life was so fucking unfair.

Steve had bites and hickeys all over him. Billy had put his mouth on that creamy skin, left his mark all over his porcelain princess, and he _could not fucking remember doing it_.

He needed to forget about Steve Harrington. He needed to find some willing pussy at the next party and drown himself in beer and boobs until he could muffle the memory of his pretty, pretty princess moaning in his ear.

He did not.

Billy Hargrove does not do that thing.

Instead, he drank eight shots of tequila at Nina Wexler’s house in Loch Nora after beating the shit out of Tommy H and then smoked a joint with Danny V in her garage until he couldn’t feel his goddamn face, and when he woke up the next morning, Billy’s chest was dry and cold, but his feet were warm and wet. His skull was throbbing and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Steve Harrington’s heart-shaped butt.

Mother_fucker_.

He tried to push himself up, but his arm was partially asleep and the ground underneath him was not stable. Because, Billy realized, it was not ground at all. The two of them had passed out on a raft in the middle of Harrington’s pool. Billy had no idea where his pants were, and Steve was wearing the amazing blue speedo and nothing else because maybe god did exist after all.

And he was…shaking?

“Harrington,” Billy whispered. “Are you awake?”

There was a low, unpleasant noise that sounded like it was made through Steve’s teeth. It made the hair on the back of Billy’s neck prickle. A glance at his face made that prickle turn into needles. Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut and a steady stream of tears slipped from the corners of his eyelids.

“Harrington, are you crying?”

“Get-get me out of this pool,” Steve hissed, sobbing through his gritted teeth. “Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d trained for, but Billy was still a lifeguard. More importantly, he knew what a panic attack looked like and Harrington was definitely in the middle of having one. How the hell was he so cool with watching all the brats half the day in the public pool if being at the pool in his own background made him freak out this badly?

He slipped off the raft and into the warm water, pulling it along behind him as he started for the stairs. Even the sound of the water slapping over the tile spooked Steve, made him grab at Billy’s shirt frantically. “It isn’t safe, it isn’t _safe_…”

“Alright, you’re okay princess, don’t lose your fuckin’ head,” he muttered, hauling Steve with his shaky Bambi legs up the stairs.

Trembling all over, Steve grabbed him by the arm and dragged Billy into the house, slamming the sliding door behind them before slipping down the wall, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Okay, Harrington,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing as he crouched down next to him. He’s had a few panic attacks himself, after some of the worst of Neil’s beatings, but he’d never seen it happen from the outside. “You’re kinda scaring me here. And god knows why, but Maxine thinks you hung the fuckin’ moon...”

Steve grabbed him by the shirt again and for a brief moment, Billy thought he was going to get hit. His pupils were narrowed into tiny pinpricks with terror. Steve stared at him with big wet eyes, face still streaked with tears as he pleaded “Distract me!” just before crushing his month against Billy’s.

Oh, the pink cotton-candy mouth was just as sweet as promised, tasting like watermelon margaritas as Billy sucked on his tongue. He shouldn’t do this – if his father knew what went through his head around Steve Harrington, he wouldn’t live to survive the summer. He didn’t need to provide the rope Neil used to hang him.

On the other hand, Billy had realize years ago that Neil was gonna hit him no matter what he did. If Billy was bad, he’d get hit. If Billy was good, he’d get hit. If Billy was a perfect little angel sent from heaven, he’d get hit. He might as well get to keep something for himself.

He bullied him a little, pushing Steve against the wall and pinning his wrists over his head. He was still shaking, still looking up at Billy with those big dark eyes, all scared and wet. Billy shoved his knees apart and kneeled between his spread thighs, letting the princess get a feel of the boner he’d had since he woke up to Steve Harrington’s perfect little ass in his face and watched as his eyelashes fluttered, lips parting oh so suggestively.

“You like that, princess?” he whispered in his ear, flicking at the delicate shell with his tongue. Steve moaned and his head fell back to allow Billy more access, showing off the tantalizing constellation of beauty marks spread out across his skin. Oh god, Billy wanted him _so goddamn bad_. “You like the way my cock feels on you in those cute little shorts?”

Oh, Jesus, princess must’ve been holding himself back last time. Steve was squirming delightfully against Billy’s prick, letting out these high-pitched whines when he started sucking and kissing on the princess’s smooth white neck. He hitched those long legs over Billy’s hips, and gasped “Yes, please, please…”

Fucking_ delicious_.

He released Steve’s wrists, his palms hungry to see if the skin everywhere else was that smooth, that delicate, and almost died and went to heaven when realized that it fucking _was_. God, even his _skin_ was like a pampered princess. Billy trailed his fingertips down the long line of his spine, thumbs tracing longingly over the little dimples above his ass. He needed to hoard every moment, every touch.

Steve’s cock was hot and pulsing against his and Billy didn’t have enough self-control to stop himself from sliding his hands down the back of the speedo to fondle that sweet ass, warming Steve’s chilled skin with his hot hands. Princess gave him one of those needy little pants and curled his hands through Billy’s damp hair, offering that royal neck to his teeth. “Billy, _Billy_…”

The sound of his own name in that spoiled little princess’s mouth, all whiny and desperate, had him gripping Steve’s ass hard enough to leave bruises, using his heavier bodyweight to trap him against the wall, both grinding frantically. Billy groaned and sucked the salty-sweet margarita flavor from his tongue, kissing him wet and messy. He wasn’t crying anymore, but the princess was shaking harder than ever. “I can’t- I’m gonna-” He gulped wetly, moaning against Billy’s lips, fingers trapped in his blond curls. “Billy, I’m gonna come…”

“You do whatever you gotta do, princess,” he murmured in his ear, gently scraping his fingernails over the small of Steve’s back.

He got to cherish the sight of those big brown eyes rolling back, eyelids flickering wildly as his fist pounded Billy’s back just once. Steve’s cock, trapped in the waistband of the speedos, drooled come down the front of the suit and Billy jerked down his shorts and tugged at himself harshly, rubbing his cockhead all over the slick damp fabric as he painted the princess in his jizz.

Princess was a vision, a filthy wet dream, kneeling on the floor with his pretty cock still weeping come all over himself, pools of Billy’s load over his soft white belly and that fantastic speedo. Billy would cherish that, too.

“Mmm,” the princess said softly, looking sleepy and dazed, smearing his mouth against Billy’s. If he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if Steve was drugged. Probably not, but maybe still a little drunk?

“Gotta leave, princess,” he whispered, unable to resist kissing him back, just for a moment.

“Kay.”

Billy stared greedily as he just pushed down the speedo and walked, gloriously, wretchedly naked – that ass should be a _crime_, fuck him sideways – to pass out, face down, on the couch.

He shook his head, just as dazed, before spotting his jeans, dumped unceremoniously on the opposite chair, checking that his keys actually were in the pockets before putting them back on. Leaning down, he cupped that heart-shaped butt with both hands and kissed the sweet little dimples before giving Steve’s ass a gentle slap, just enough of a tap to keep it pink and warm. The little squeal he got made his dick ambitious enough to suggest round two, though that wouldn't be happening. “Thanks for the swim, princess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't fall asleep in a pool. That's bad.


	3. as think as you drunk i am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did I mention there's a lot of sex in this story? Yeah, in case you were thinking this was going to get less filthy, please allow me to assure you that I'm made of 99% trash and 1% depression and this is nothing but an extended PWP.

_I’ve told you time and time again_  
_ I’m not as think as you drunk I am_  
_ And we all fell down when the sun came up_  
_ I’ve think we’ve had enough_

When he was finally awake and sober, Steve’s legs felt like jello and some very intimate parts of his body were stuck to the leather sofa. Extracting himself was a careful and very uncomfortable process.

Up until the moment he spotted the speedos, covered in dried come stains, just laying in the middle of the hallway, Steve had sort of been operating under the assumption that letting Billy Hargrove hump him against a wall and lick him like a lollipop had been a bizarre (intensely hot, literally the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced) dream.

Well, then he needs to lean against the kitchen counter and take some deep calming breaths. Okay, okay. He’s willing to believe that Billy would be down to use his bodyweight as a masturbation aid. He’s even willing to (reluctantly) believe that Billy wouldn’t be a total asshole about Steve having a seemingly inexplicable panic attack from waking up in his own pool.

If asked about the way he thought Billy had sex – something he’d genuinely never thought about until five days ago – but if Steve absolutely HAD to give an answer about the way he assumed Billy would have sex, Steve would’ve guessed sex with Billy would like…well, _Billy_. Rough, aggressive, mean, and possibly involving some kind of psychological intimidation or verbal humiliation during the proceedings. 

Instead, Billy kissed him like he was imagining making love to his lips. Ran his hands down Steve’s back, caressing all the skin he could touch. He was dominating and…and _possessive_, Steve thought, blushing at the memory of Billy pinning him to the wall, thick thighs forcing his legs to stay wide open. But Billy hadn’t been _cruel_ to him, although Steve had been plenty embarrassing – clingy and overemotional, still kinda drunk off the watermelon margaritas at Nina’s and freaked out from being trapped in the pool.

And as groggy as he was after that orgasm, Steve was pretty sure that he hadn’t _imagined_ Billy groping his ass and kissing down his spine, mouth hot and damp on his skin, before giving his ass a gentle swat – a slap more for sound than for inflicting pain. “_Thanks for the swim, princess_.”

Steve closed his eyes and spent several minutes contemplating the value of braining himself on the kitchen counter. On the upside, he’d be able to stop thinking of Billy Hargrove spanking him. On the downside, his parents were home all of twice a year, tops, and Dustin would probably be the one to find him dead and naked with his head bashed in on his kitchen floor and Steve wasn’t willing to do that to the kid.

“Steve! STEVE!” Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. There was a loud rapping on his front door and Dustin yelled “Steve, open the door!”

“Uh…uh…just a second!!”

Steve turned in place three times, looking frantically around the room. His speedos were the only visible evidence that something had happened, but he also wasn’t wearing any clothes. Snatching the bathing suit from the floor, Steve booked it up the stairs to cover himself up.

“STEVE!”

“KEEP YOUR FRICKIN’ SHIRT ON!” he roared down the stairs.

“Man, what took you so long?” Dustin complained as he unlocked the front door.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, nervously rearranging the strands. “I just woke up,” he mumbled. “Want some breakfast?”

Dustin stared at him. “Dude…it’s 4 in the afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face and taking the cannister of Folgers out of the cabinet. “But I’ve got a hangover and I _really_ want some hashbrowns.” 

\---

He drove Dustin home just before ten, which was fine.

Really. It was fine, everything was fine.

He felt like hurling every time he saw the pool from the patio doors, but that was alright. He could handle that.

He wasn’t that surprised to find himself blacking out and waking up next to Billy Hargrove. The Billy Hargrove part was new but the blacking out? Not so much.

Steve had first started drinking pretty early into high school – he had zero parental supervision all year round except Christmas break and about a week after school ended, frankly it was more shocking that he’d waited until high school – but he mostly did it as a social activity. He didn’t usually drink by himself in the house up until a few months ago.

It was the night terrors. About twice a week Steve had horrible, all-consuming dreams – dark shapes swimming through blue water in the nighttime, the suffocating terror of the living tunnels beneath the town, monsters with no faces bursting through the walls, and rows of teeth in flower-shaped jaws.

He’d tried chamomile tea and relaxing music. He’d even tried pilfering some of his mother’s sleeping pills, but those had only made it worse. Instead of screaming awake from his nightmare, the drugs forced Steve to stay asleep, stay terrified and helpless while the Demodogs and Demogorgons chased him over and over again.

He was pretty sure he still had the dreams when he was drinking, but at least when he was blackout drunk, he couldn’t remember having them.

After the incident with the pool that morning, Steve already knew he didn’t want to be left alone in the house after dark, so he headed to the quarry with two bottles of Jack Daniels – because fuck glasses – and a blanket – because hey the Beemer was comfortable enough to sleep in, right?

He leaned against the Beemer, wrapped in his blanket, and tried to numb down the horrible aching dread sitting in his stomach.

Steve was a third of the way through the Jack and starting to get comfortable when the Camaro pulled up and Steve honestly couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised. Billy Hargrove was gonna haunt his whole life, he guessed. He was just drunk enough not to give a shit anymore.

There was cigarette between his lips as Billy stepped out of the car, the cherry lighting up a bruise spread across his left cheekbone. “Well _hello_, princess.” Who had he been fighting? “What’s the pampered princess doing out here all by himself?”

“Having a _party_,” Steve slurred sarcastically, holding up the bottle of only partly full Jack. “Want some?”

“Ooh, princess, you sure know the way to a man’s heart,” Billy said approvingly, taking an enormous swig. “Damn, you’ve even got the real shit.”

They listened to the radio in the Camaro and polished off the entire bottle together in silence, looking out over the black expanse of the quarry below them, and the black starry void of the sky above.

Billy switched the radio over to the Led Zeppelin tape in the cassette player and retrieved the second bottle of Jack, and when he came back, Steve’s limbs moved without consulting his brain. He leaned over, arms slipping out from underneath the blanket, and kissed Billy soft and lazy, with a hand splaying tentatively over his jaw.

Billy groaned into his mouth like he was dyin’, slipping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops to pull him closer. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he muttered, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. “Pretty princess.”

Steve snorted and giggled, burying his face in his shoulder. “Nu-uh,” he said childishly, petting his blond curls. With his face right there, he decided to start kissing on Billy’s neck. “’m not cute.”

“You’re the cutest thing in this fuckin’ useless town,” Billy said vehemently, bucking his hips as Steve started to suck on his pulse. “Fuck, princess…”

“Mmm,” Steve sighed, gently using his teeth, too. He moved his clumsy fingers down to unzipping Billy’s jeans, drunkenly fumbling in the dark as Robert Plant crooned about _weepin’ and moanin’_. His rational mind was long gone – ciao, hasta la vista, sayonara. Steve was left running on pure instinct, grabbing at whatever he wanted, and he wanted Billy.

Steve managed to unzip him and found him going commando. Jack had loosened his tongue and made him bolder. Grinning at Billy from beneath the fan of his lashes, he traced his fingers up the shaft of his cock and said, “Were you hoping for something tonight, Hargrove?”

Something like a growl rumbled in the back of Billy’s throat and he covered Steve’s hand with his own, forcing Steve’s fingers to tighten around him. A tingle traveled from Steve’s scalp to his toes as Billy’s hand guided him over his dick. “You’re getting over your head, princess,” he whispered, backing Steve up against the Camaro. “Don’t go starting something you can’t finish.”

Steve licked his lips, twisting his wrist as his grip around him tightened. His thumb rubbed idly at the slit and Billy’s thighs quivered. “Who said?” he asked, biting his lower lip and blinking his big brown eyes, completely unaware of how coy it made him look. “Who said I can’t finish you?”

“Jesus Christ,” he choked, thrusting into Steve’s fist, burying his fingers into his soft dark hair. “Talk to me, princess.”

“What-what d’you want me to say?” Steve stammered with his hand wrapped around Billy’s prick. “I’ve never touched any other dick but mine before. You’re-you feel really hot, Billy. And soft.”

“Princess, you’re fuckin’ killing me here. Even your hands are pretty,” Billy groaned. He palmed Steve through his jeans, grinning with satisfaction when Steve had to hold back a whimper. “Mm, got hard for me, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, jerking Billy off faster. Billy was breathing harder, moaning a little against his lips. He swallowed nervously and blushed, chewing his lower lip again, before whispering, “I want-I want you to come, Billy. Right here, where I can feel you.”

Billy kissed him, vicious with teeth and tongue, swearing under his breath as his cock pulsed in Steve’s hand, his fingers growing wet and sticky. Frantically, Steve used the cleaner hand to yank his jeans open, panting desperately as he finally closed his hand around the most painful erection he’d ever had in his life.

Distantly he was aware that Billy was still there, that Steve had an arm around his shoulders and had sort of trapped him in place, but it was still a small shock to have Billy touch him, catch him by the hips. “Don’t you just look like a perfect wet dream?” he murmured, thumbs rubbing over Steve’s protruding hipbones. “What can I do for the pretty princess?”

Steve’s mouth felt bruised and tender, his tongue slow and clumsy. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the smell of Billy’s hairspray and cologne. “Can you…I just need…”

_Can you just hold me_? He wasn’t quite brave enough to get it out.

Billy cupped Steve’s face in his palms and gently slipped his tongue in his mouth, capturing the needy little sounds he kept making. He kept his lips soft on Steve’s bruised mouth, another one of those kisses that felt like Billy was picturing their mouths making love. “Such a pretty princess,” he murmured idly, slipping his hand into Steve’s jeans to rub gently at the head of his cock with the rough callous on his thumb. “Such a soft, pretty boy.”

Steve came screaming silently against Billy collarbone while he whispered “C’mon, princess. C’mon ‘n make a mess of me” in his ear.

Led Zeppelin was still playing on the radio and they were still wrapped in each other. They finished the second bottle.

Waking up next to Billy Hargrove was almost predictable at this point.

Waking up next to him with Chief Hopper standing over them made that admittedly a little more exciting. He raised his brows at Steve and drawled “Good morning, boys. Fun night?”


	4. and most things in between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so Soft that I was in actual pain while writing it.

_Champagne, cocaine, gasoline_  
_ And most things in between_  
_ I roam the city in a shopping cart_  
_ A pack of camels and a smoke alarm_

When Billy woke up, he was laying on his back in the back seat of the Camaro with Steve Harrington sitting between his legs, the rear driver’s side door wide open…talking to the Hawkins Chief of Police.

Billy froze in horror, praying to god that if he played dead long enough, this whole fucking nightmare would magically go away.

“Imagine my surprise,” the Chief was telling Steve. “Being woken up at _six o’clock in the fucking morning_, because she insists that I need to go find you, and I find you and the Hargrove boy passed out in the back seat of his car with your pants open.”

Billy didn’t dare open his eyes, even though he badly wished to know what Steve’s face was doing. “Sir, I’m-I’m sorry she woke you, but there’s nothing out here that we need saving from, I swear.”

_She_?

“I’m not so sure that’s true, kid,” Hopper said in an odd tone. “I don’t know either of your parents too well, but I can assume you’d be in mighty hot water if anyone else saw what I just saw, Steve.”

Oh god no. If Hopper told Neil he’d found Billy at the quarry passed out in the back of the Camaro and cuddling Steve Harrington with both of their pants unzipped, he’d never be able to go back home again, because Neil would _kill him_.

“I know that,” Steve muttered, barely audible. Were they about to be blackmailed by the Chief of Police? What could Hopper possibly want from him and Steve? 

And then Hopper said a sentence that literally broke Billy’s whole brain. “I’d like to think that the people in my town wouldn’t do anything to hurt a pair of harmless children making their own fun. I’d really like to believe that, Steve,” he said quietly. “But I’ve been in this job too long to expect good behavior. And I can’t protect you if you’re gonna do this out in public. I’m the Chief of Police, not god. I can’t make them unsee whatever they stumble on.”

_Protect you_, Billy thought incredulously. _Protect you_? Hopper was going to help Steve hide what they were doing?

Harrington didn’t even try to argue that they weren’t children. “We didn’t mean to fall asleep, Hop. I’m sorry.”

The grimace was clear in Hopper’s voice. “Yeah, maybe don’t make a habit of drinking out in public places with your boyfriend. I can tell you from previous experience, you’ve got a fast mouth and a loose tongue when you’re sauced, kid.”

“Uh…yeah. He’s-he isn’t-” Steve let out a gusty sigh. “It’s a casual thing.”

Behind him, Billy fought to keep his jaw from tightening.

“Oh.” There was a pause, and then Hopper said, “When you blurted out that you were…well, I guess I kind of assumed that you had someone in mind.”

Hold the fucking phone – so not only was Harrington a queer, he’s already told people?! And since when were Harrington and the Chief of Police best friends and confidants? And why did nobody in town ever mention that? Unless, of course, nobody in town _knew_ about it.

“Eh.” Billy had the distinct impression that Steve shrugged. “Not really. Just…the rum and the existential terror talking, you know.”

“Wow, _existential_,” he drawled, laughter in his voice. “That little vocab calendar the kids gave you finally paying off?”

“Fuck all of you,” Steve said, laughing too. It made Billy’s chest tight. “…maybe a little. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’d gonna fuck off to California any day now…”

God, he wished. But returning to California would mean leaving Maxine with his dad in Hawkins, and the girl had zero survival instincts where Neil was concerned. He was saving his money from the lifeguarding position to find an apartment in September and that would help to keep her out of the house and away from Neil, but he’d need to find another job before Labor Day, when the Hawkins Public Rec Center would close down.

“…and I just hope I’ll pass,” Steve was saying, when he tuned back in.

“You’ll pass,” Hopper said gruffly, with a sound like he was clapping Steve on the shoulder. “Powell is tolerable, but I’ve got the urge to kick Callahan’s ass all over this town on a weekly basis. I wasn’t kidding with you, Harrington – I need a deputy with more than three braincells to rub together.”

“Well, you’re in luck! According to Dustin, I have a whole _four_ braincells,” Steve replied, bright and cheeky. “Impressive, right?”

Princess wanted to be a fucking _cop_? A _queer_ cop, Billy mentally corrected, because that felt super significant, at least to him. And Chief Hopper was just…_cool_ with that. Hopper didn’t howl names at Harrington and act like he had some kind of fucking disease – no, he wanted Harrington to be his goddamn _deputy_.

“That’s how I know you’ll pass.” Hopper coughed, head turned away from the car. “Try not to keep drinking and taking your clothes off in public, alright?”

“Deal, Chief. Tell her not to keep worrying about me and I’ll pick her up at one.”

There it was again: who the fuck was ‘her’? Hopper wasn’t married and didn’t, as far as he knew, have children.

Billy heard Hopper’s truck drive away. From in front of him, he also heard Harrington whisper “Fuck it.” Then the door closed quietly, and Harrington laid back onto Billy’s chest. The princess never even realized he’d heard the whole thing.

His throat hurt. His chest hurt. His eyes hurt.

Billy had often told himself that real life didn’t work like that. Nobody in real life would just…accept you for who you are. Without antagonism, no questions asked. Nobody did that.

But apparently, _someone_ did.

_It’s a casual thing_.

Billy doesn’t want casual. He was never good at casual. Anything he wanted, Billy always grabbed with both hands and swallowed whole. When he drank, he drank until he blacked out. When he started smoking, he was up to a pack a day within the first week. He skipped weed and tried coke first. (He never did understand the deal with Adderall, though – that shit just made him _tired_.)

Whatever he did, he was either in all the way or on the other side of the map. An all or nothing attitude that usually ended in Billy wanting everything and getting jack shit, because that was just the cycle of his whole life.

Billy’s never wanted casual. But since when did Billy _ever_ get what he wanted?

\---

They got back into their own cars and drove back to their real lives, the lives they had in the daytime when the eyes of the rest of the town were on them. Billy had a shift at the pool starting at 11 and Max insisted on going with him – he didn’t know why. Instead of getting in the other pool and playing with the other kids, she sat in one of the lawn chairs and read her nerdy comics.

Until around 1:30, when a familiar group of boys burst out of the men’s locker room, followed up by their volunteer nanny.

Billy was genuinely disappointed that the incredible blue speedos had been traded in for a regular pair of nondescript green swimming trunks. God, he should’ve appreciated those long muscular thighs when he had the chance. He’d been overly distracted by the heart-shaped ass, but those thighs deserved attention, too. Pale and lightly dusted with dark hair, they were strong and slender and (Billy was absolutely positive of this) they would look fucking fantastic shaking on either side of his head.

Rather than following the boys into the pool, Harrington spoke to the Wheeler boy for a moment before standing and waiting patiently outside the locker rooms.

Frowning, Billy’s eyes traced over each of the other children – Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, a pale timid child with dark hair he vaguely knew as little Byers, and yes, there was Maxine and her bright red hair. All five of them were accounted for, so why was Harrington still standing there?

Then a young girl around Max’s age peered out from the doorway of the women’s locker room and tentatively stepped out in a bright one-piece bathing suit covered in colorful geometric patterns. Her hair was a fluffy cloud of light brown that didn’t quite reach her rounded shoulders. With her wide, soft eyes and earnest face, it made her look a little like a spaniel – a bit sad, a bit vulnerable, and sweet.

Immediately, Harrington held out his hand to her and spoke to her, soft and kind. Slowly her hand slid into his and she followed him across the cement decking.

_Tell her not to keep worrying about me and I’ll pick her up at one_.

Huh. So Hopper had a kid after all.

It was also painfully obvious that the girl did not want to get in the fucking pool. They approached the side of the pool Billy’s stand was located on, so he could hear every word as Steve led her, very reluctantly, toward the ladder. “I’m not letting go of you unless you ask me to,” he murmured as they moved at a glacial pace. “There’s nothing in the water but what you can see, El.”

In the water, Wheeler was waiting only a few feet away from the ladder, hands held out toward her and Harrington. “We’ve been in here almost every single day since the pool opened, El,” he promised in a reassuring tone so unlike his normal whining it was nearly eerie. “And it’s a nice bright sunny day.”

Billy had no idea what _that_ had to do with the price of tea in China, but it was true enough – the sky was a pure broken blue, not a cloud in the sky.

“See,” Harrington murmured to the girl – to…El. “Safe as can be.”

Her knuckles were white on Steve’s hand, but she kept creeping closer to the ladder inch by steady inch. As he slowly turned her around so that she could actually step into the pool, the poor girl’s fucking knees shook. Max called “You can do it, El, we’re right here!”

From his higher vantage point, Billy could see how wet her eyes looked. El said “Please don’t let go.” And he could hear the strange rhythm of her speech, like she wasn’t quite used to speaking English or something. “I don’t know…why…scared…”

“I know, El,” he said, in a soothing voice that gave Billy the chills. He didn’t know why. “And I promised you that I wouldn’t let go unless you told me to. Do I ever break my promises?”

“No.” She sounded confident about that.

She climbed the ladder one rung at a time and only let go of Steve’s hand when she was within grabbing distance of Wheeler.

Billy expected Steve to go right into the pool, but he sort of ambled over to the guard tower. He grinned as Harrington’s eyes strayed just a little too long on his spread thighs before he was able to meet Billy’s gaze. “Uh…Carol and Tommy are going away to ISU next week. Having a party at Tommy’s tonight. You gonna be there?”

Billy licked his lips and watched Harrington’s eyes follow the movement. He wondered if Harrington wanted Billy to kiss him as much he did right now. “I could be,” he answered coolly, though he knew he shouldn’t. If Neil figured out he was spending the summer humping another boy, he was as good as dead. But he wasn’t good at telling himself ‘no’, never had been. “What’s in it for me?”

Harrington shrugged and a flush began suffusing his face. He was too fuckin’ cute. Barely moving his lips, he looked up at Billy through his lashes and said, “I could blow you again.” Billy nearly choked on his own saliva. “This time we could both actually remember it.”

If he hadn’t overheard that conversation with Hopper, he’d probably assume Harrington was bluffing, but as it was, he was pretty sure this was a serious offer. Shifting in his chair to tamp down the rush of blood to his cock, Billy hissed “Are you _tryin’_ to get me arrested for public indecency?”

Blinking those great big eyelashes at him. If he had any idea what Billy wanted to do to him, he’d run screaming in the opposite direction. “Is that a yes, Hargrove?”

“That’s a yes, Harrington.” He leaned toward him, licking his lips again, gazing at Harrington through half-lidded eyes. He lowered his voice down to a throbbing, husky purr so that he could watch those chocolatey eyes turn black. “Better find us someplace that’s quiet, princess. I don’t share.”

A brief flash of real hunger filled Harrington’s face – for a moment, Billy wonders if he’s actually gonna climb into the chair and park that perfect ass right on his lap, right here in public. Billy isn’t sure he could stop himself from earning that public indecency charge if he did. He’s both relieved and disappointed when Harrington chooses to walk away instead.

\---

Tommy was an enormous asshole, so there were actual fountains of champagne and chocolate at the party. Billy doesn’t know why – that level of classiness was totally wasted on this group of cretins. He filled a cup though and took a few sips to play the part, but Billy avoided both the keg in the kitchen and the rumored coke upstairs in one of the guestrooms – though the idea was tempting as hell, he wanted to make sure he was sober enough to remember whatever the fuck they ended up doing tonight and he had the feeling if he got high while Harrington was still sober, all his fun would end before it began.

These people were fucking dull, and Billy spent long enough waiting that he nearly said ‘fuck it’ and got hammered because it seemed like he may have been stood up and he was buzzed enough that getting blackout drunk looked more and more tempting. Then a voice behind him said “No, Tiff, I’m good. Really, babe, I’ve gotta drive back home.”

Billy forced himself to turn around slowly rather than whipping his head around like a madman. Jesus fucking Christ, his princess looked so _good_. One of those navy-blue polo shirts that made his skin look so creamy and lickable, with tight jeans that were clinging to his thighs in a way that made Billy want to kneel down and see what kind of sound Harrington would make if he sucked him off through the denim. His dark hair, sleek and silky where it hung into his eyes, made for stroking and grabbing and pulling.

Billy wanted him in absolutely all the worst ways. And it was worse now that he knew Harrington was a queer just like him. Now that he knew this might be casual, but it wasn’t Steve just closing his eyes and pretending he was getting a handy from a cheerleader or something.

He wanted to throw that boy down right on one of the tables and tear those clothes off him. Billy wanted to get his hands all over him, right there in front of all those people. He wanted to show every single person in that room that Billy Hargrove was the only one allowed to have him. Make them see that their efforts, all those past conquests, were fucking useless. Only Billy could satisfy that spoiled little brat. Only Billy had what made his needy, whining princess happy – and he could make him so, _so_ happy.

Billy wanted to open him up, crawl inside, and get comfortable. Crack him down the center until Steve held no secrets from him, until Billy possessed all his fears and desires. Until he could hide nothing from him.

He wanted Steve to be _his_, and _only_ his.

Billy wanted never to see Steve Harrington’s beautiful face ever again. He wanted his own life to be happier, or at least _simpler_. He wanted not to want any of these things at all.

Steve met his eyes from across the room, and it felt like an invisible hand was making a fist around his stomach. “I actually need to use the restroom, Tiffany. I’ll be right back.”

He waited for a couple of minutes before trying to follow him – nothing would be more suspicious than following right behind Harrington into a bathroom and having them both completely disappear, maybe even for the rest of the night. God, he hoped it was for the rest of the night.

Billy stole a bottle of _much_ better champagne from Tommy’s parents’ wine cellar, because Tommy might have no goddamn class, but Billy fucking knew how to treat a princess right, okay?

Maybe if he got the princess tipsy, Billy could convince Harrington to let him do blow off his perky ass. Mmm, now there was a delicious thought. He wandered out upstairs, trying to decide which bathroom Steve would’ve gone into when a door at the end of the hall cracked open, a sliver of light illuminating Steve’s rosy cheeks. “C’mon, hurry,” he whispered. “I gotta lock the door back up before Tommy realizes I snuck into the master suite.”

“You jimmied the lock on his parents’ room?” Billy was kind of impressed. He didn’t realize the princess had it in him.

“Yes, now hurry up before someone sees us!”

Safely hidden away in the enormous master bedroom, Steve closed and locked the door behind them, and Billy set his stolen booze on the dresser.

“God, this outfit,” he murmured, backing Steve up against the king size bed.

“Yeah?” he asked shyly. Like he had no idea he starred in every single one of Billy’s wet dreams since the day they met.

“Yeah,” Billy growled, pressing the hard line of cock into his thigh and leaning down to kiss the moles dotting his neck.

That earned him a low sigh as Steve relaxed back into the mattress, fingers tangled loose and soft in Billy’s curls.

“Thought you wanted…what I promised you…” he said breathlessly, lashes sometimes giving a frantic flutter whenever Billy found a spot that was especially sensitive.

He was quickly becoming addicted to the pliant easy way the princess laid beneath him, stroking Billy’s hair and moaning softly. “We have time,” he whispered. “Unless you got someplace better to be…?”

“N-no,” Steve stuttered, gasping hotly in his ear. “But I’m kinda useless after I come, so…”

“Yeah, I had noticed that,” Billy said with a regretful sigh as he pulled back. He rolled beside Steve on the bed, and gave him a wicked grin, patting his thigh suggestively. “Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

Princess bent, long fingers and broad palms heating up his skin. Branding him with the wet heat of his mouth as he kissed Billy’s lips. His ear. His neck. His collar bone. His pecs. Teased Billy with a gentle tentative kiss to a nipple, before using his lips to trace down the treasure trail of golden hair to the waistband of his pants.

He should’ve told him off. Should’ve told him Billy was not some reluctant girlfriend to be seduced, but his voice was trapped in throat, body humming with the quiet bliss of the gentle touches.

As it was, he hissed and yowled like a tomcat in an alleyway when Steve finally put his mouth on his dick, slow and sloppy with drool, like he was letting himself savor the experience of having Billy’s cock in his mouth.

Billy threaded all his fingers through that dark silky pile of hair, and when he pressed him down a little more, he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow. “Yeah princess, just like that,” he breathed. “Oh, your mouth is sweet. Just like I knew it would be.”

Steve’s eyelids flickered until his gaze could focus them on Billy’s. He was caught, trapped by those eyes, soft as velvet and heady as wine. He could see the perfect swell of his heart-shaped ass, rocking up and down into the mattress while he blows Billy, those pretty thighs clenching and shivering as he moaned on his dick.

“Gonna come,” Billy warned, thrusting shallowly into the wet heat of his mouth. “Gonna come in that sweet mouth.”

Princess stroked his stomach, long fingers splayed over Billy’s belly, lashes fluttering at him. The last droplets spilled over Steve’s lips as he pulled away. “Was it okay? That’s-that was the first time I’ve tried that.”

Billy used his thumb to smear his own come all over those candy-pink lips. “Mm, princess,” he said with a lazy, satisfied smile. “It was better than okay.”

They smoked a cigarette together and popped the cork on the bottle of champagne, smoke and sweet bubbles passed between their mouths. Feeling tipsy, Billy pulled his princess’s pants off and sucked him off, deep and steady, until princess was moaning ‘oh-oh-oh’.

He was too loud and Billy loved it, squeezing and groping his shivering thighs as the princess came down his throat.

They drank more champagne and things started to get very hazy in his memory about what happened. He recalled Steve digging through the dresser and putting clothes on from Tommy’s parents’ wardrobe. He recalled falling asleep on top of the covers with Steve curled against his chest. At three in the morning, they ended up bolting upright in the dark, rudely awakened by a smoke alarm going off downstairs when someone in the kitchen attempted to make pancakes while very high and dangerously drunk.

The two of the scrambled through the dark to put on some clothes and sneak out of the house before Tommy could realize someone had spent the night defiling his parents’ bedroom when Billy suddenly paused and stared Steve down. Licked his lips hungrily.

“Are you wearing _panties_, princess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon here is that Eleven is actually Bisexual and initially doesn't know or care about gender (which is canon - in season 1, she tries to undress in front of Lucas, Dustin, and Mike and doesn't seem to understand why they're disturbed by it). 
> 
> So Hopper's already sort of had his eyes opened about human sexuality, since Eleven would be like: bodies are nice! why does their decoration matter!? this is stupid!
> 
> Hopper: *pikachu face meme*
> 
> (also, Hop suspects that Will is also gay and nothing on earth will make him stop loving and supporting that child, so Steve getting drunk and blurting out to the group that 'sometimes, he like boys, actually' would not be that shocking)


	5. they don't look very human-like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quickly, I just wanted to give a brief language warning. In this chapter, Billy repeatedly refers to Steve's asshole as his 'pussy'. Steve finds this hot and a little embarrassing rather than hurtful, but if that bothers you...this may not be the smut you are seeking! (in which case you may find 'strangers to paradise' more your cup of tea!) 
> 
> TL;DR: Billy is Nasty. And Steve loves it.

_What are these footprints?_   
_ They don’t look very human-like_   
_ Now I wish that I could find my clothes_   
_ Bedsheets and a morning rose_

Billy licked his lips and _stared_ at Steve. “Are you wearing _panties_, princess?”

A shiver broke over him at the rough way Billy’s voice rumbled out, husky with sleep and something darker. Startled, Steve looked down at himself. Jesus Christ. He hadn’t even picked something in like, black lace or a red thong – something campy and deliberately sexy that he’d be able to laugh off. They were a full coverage pair of satin panties in a dusky rose pink, feminine and functional. The underwear of a stylish woman who wasn’t necessarily intending to show it to anyone, but wouldn’t be all that embarrassed if she did.

_Steve_ was embarrassed. His cock and balls were indecent bulges stretching out the shiny satin fabric, obvious and absurd. 

Quickly Steve scrambled to take them off, but because he was still a little tipsy, he almost brained himself on the dresser trying to hop out of them, the panties still tangled just beneath the curve of his ass. Then he yelped and jumped nearly a foot in the air as a pair of rough, warm hands gripped him by the thighs and Billy’s chest hit his back. “Is this you tryin’ to tell me something, princess?”

Another shiver shook down his spine, Billy’s hot breath in his ear. “N-no,” Steve stammered, trying to squirm the panties down to the floor despite Billy holding them up and trapping him in place. “No, I don’t-I’m not…what…”

“Oh, I think you _are_ trying to tell me something,” Billy said silkily. There was a wet sound from behind him, but Steve could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart, the blood rushing through his ears. “I think this is you trying to tell me your pussy needs more attention, princess.”

“W-wha-?” Did Billy think Steve was someone else? It was stupid, but his whole heart seemed to drop at the thought that he called someone else ‘princess’. Maybe Billy was drunker than he thought? He might be wearing women’s underwear, but Billy had to _know_ that Steve didn’t have a- “_AaahhhgGghHhHhh_!”

Steve wailed, face turned into Billy’s neck and knees trembling as his spit soaked fingers rubbed against his asshole, circling and massaging the muscle with a pressure that was firm and steady but not rough. Billy chuckled in his ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I thought so,” he murmured, shoving Steve over the end of the bed, legs trapped together by the underwear bunched around his thighs. “Need that pussy taken care of, don’t you, princess? Shoulda just said so.”

“I don’t-I haven’t-” he choked, face burning as Billy’s thumbs spread his hole apart for his viewing. He whined, tears of shame prickling his eyes, his cock leaking onto the sheets. “Billy, _don’t_-”

Billy fucking _purred_. “Oh, that’s so nice. You gotta real pretty pussy, Stevie.”

Billy spread him wide and spat into him, spit dripping from his hole. It was gross, _filthy_, and Steve sobbed as his cock pulsed with blood, aching between his legs. Billy slowly pushed a single finger through the muscle and watched in fascination as he sank into Steve’s body with relative ease. His finger moved, gently, a pulse of in-and-out and Steve whimpered, gripping the blankets between his fingers. Billy’s pale eyes seemed to glow within the semi-darkness as they watched each other, Steve staring at him, open-mouthed, over his shoulder.

“You play with yourself here, princess?” Billy asked quietly, with another fucking motion that his hips swayed along with. Steve felt that finger all the way up his spine, moaning softly with each gentle push. “Do you ever rub this pretty pussy?”

The tears finally made a slow trail down his cheek as Steve squeezed his eyes closed, humiliated pleasure twisting his stomach in knots. It was hot, burning like fever, but so sharp and so good. Two of Billy’s fingers felt huge, and he panted through the stretch of it, burning but aching for more at same time. “A-a _little_.”

Billy squeezed his ass with his other hand, fucking him with a little more force. “You let some other man fuck this pussy?” he asked in a growl, putting bruises on Steve’s thighs with the force of his grip, “You open these long legs and let someone get in this tight pussy, princess?”

“_No_!” Steve cried, hanging onto the bedclothes, trying to fuck Billy’s fingers deeper into himself. His legs were shaking. It burned, a little, but he wanted more, so much more- “_No_, I never-I’ve never-! _Billy_-!”

Steve wailed his name as Billy pulled his fingers out, giving Steve a quick slap on the ass – “don’t whine, princess” – before spitting on him again, shoving them back inside a little harder. Steve tore the sheets from the bed, groaning loudly, bucking into his fingers. “F-fuck,” he gasped out. “Oh, _fuck_.”

He didn’t have the room to spread his legs more, his lower half trapped in the panties, but his legs kicked out spastically when Billy put another finger in his ass. Billy kept drooling down onto Steve’s hole, slicking him up until it ran down his balls and made a wet stain on the sheets. God, it was _disgusting_ and Steve felt about twelve seconds from coming all over himself.

“Fuck me,” he whined, way past caring about how needy and desperate he sounded. “Billy – fuck me. _Please_. You can-you can put it in.”

Fucking _pitiful_. Oh yeah, Steve was real fucking irresistible. Jesus Christ, he was gonna die of shame later, when he was sober and not presenting himself like a bitch in heat.

“God_damn_,” Billy breathed, kissing the small of his back. “Princess…shit, princess, I always knew you’d be the hottest fucking thing in the sack.”

Billy pushed him up the bed a little so that he could get behind him. He eased his fingers out and yanked Steve up by his hips, spitting on his own dick to get himself ready. Steve whimpered as he teased his hole with the head of his cock. “It’s your first time, so you’re gonna feel my dick all the way up to your goddamn throat, princess,” he rumbled, with a surprisingly tender kiss to Steve’s shoulder. “But it shouldn’t hurt.”

“Please,” Steve whispered, hiding his face against his forearm. “I want it, Billy.”

He felt the drag of Billy’s lips over his skin, the soft hairs both below and above his mouth. “Anything for you, princess.”

It didn’t hurt – there was kind of a pinching, stinging sensation at first, but Billy didn’t just shove his dick in and go to town, which probably helped a lot. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, pulling until Steve’s ass was tucked up against his hips. “_Fuck_, princess. God, Stevie…”

The nonsense Billy was moaning into his shoulder made Steve feel better about the fact that his orgasm seemed to be sitting right below his navel. That got a lot more urgent when Billy cradled his hips in his hands and adjusted the angle slightly.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, smacking his palm on the mattress frantically. Steve stuffed a handful of blankets against his face so that he could scream and the people downstairs – who’d long since gone quiet – wouldn’t be able to hear him. “_Aaahhhh_-_nnnnnnnnhgggggggg_!”

Billy grunted, sweating and cursing as Steve started to scream and buck underneath him. He fisted Steve’s dick in one hand, jerking him off furiously. Billy’s cock felt huge inside him – not because he was getting bigger, but because Steve’s body was clenching down tighter. “So fucking wet. Got so wet for me.”

Steve thrashed, slapping the bed and screaming into the blankets – apparently Billy knew how to translate that by now. “Oh _fuck_, that’s it,” Billy growled, scraping his teeth over Steve’s shoulder. “Come all over my dick, princess. Oh shit, yeah.”

Billy swore as his body clenched around him and Steve whimpered “Billy, Billy” into the ruined bedclothes, covered in come and drool and probably champagne. All his muscles went lax, unable to hold himself up anymore. Billy pulled his lifeless body up to his chest, hips pushing into him, and filling him and he was right, Steve could feel him all the way to his fucking throat and it was _so good_.

He was blissed out, fucked out and flying high, safe in the grip of Billy’s desire. Safe in Billy’s arms. Safe with Billy.

It was sort of funny, because even two weeks ago, Steve would’ve swore on every dollar in the account his parents gave him that in these arms were one of the least safe places for him in town.

Steve’s whole body sang with the oversensitivity, sang ‘_Billy, Billy, Billy_’ while he fucked Steve like a ragdoll. When he buried himself in Steve’s ass to the hilt, Steve whined, limp and panting as he felt the warm flood of come spilling inside him. “_Oh_,” he sighed, shivering with aftershocks. “_Oh_.” 

It felt incredible, and his nerves were still humming a chorus for the boy who’d taken his last remaining virginity.

Billy took a shaky breath, arms still wrapped close around Steve’s body. “We gotta get outta here,” he murmured, though he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. His mouth, a fire that dragged over his skin, whispered across his neck, coaxing Steve to burn for him again. Again. Again. “Stevie, I’m pretty sure the whole second floor heard how much you loved that. Only a matter of time before they figure out it came from a room that was supposed to be locked.”

Steve hissed unhappily when Billy pulled out, and a calloused hand rubbed apologetically at his lower back. Familiar fingertips gently touched his hole and Steve flinched away, too sore to find the idea of anymore play enticing. “No blood, no tears,” Billy murmured, sounding pleased. “Try not to put anything else in your ass for a few days. If you think you’re sore now, you don’t wanna know how that will feel.”

He tucked the pink satin back up over Steve’s ass, giving both cheeks an oddly fond squeeze before pulling away.

Steve navigated his heavy tongue long enough to reply “We’re gonna have to sneak out of the window. Everyone else thinks we left the party hours ago.” 

Billy raised a brow. “We’re on the second floor.”

Steve raised a brow right back at him. Feeling a bit bratty, with Billy’s jizz leaking out of him and into the stolen panties he wore, he said, “What, you can’t jump?”

He was a clingy person. Needy and insecure. Steve knew he was. Which was why as they were walking back to find their cars, he couldn’t stop his stupid mouth from saying “You can crash at mine, if you want. We’ll do breakfast or something.” _Shut up, Steve, stop talking_. “Not at 4 am, obviously, but…”

Billy gave him this sideways glance. Jesus, why does he have to speak? “Aren’t your parents gonna wonder what the fuck a dirty teenager is doing in their house?”

Oh. _You’re not dirty_, he almost blurted out. But Billy kind of was. In the best way. Steve’s body was still tuned to the song of Billy’s fingers, slick with spit, pulsing in his ass. _“You play with yourself here, princess?”_

God, he wished he wasn’t so sore. He wouldn’t mind going again. Maybe, getting to face Billy this time. Getting to kiss him, touch him, dizzy with the thickness of his prick, splitting him apart, nerves hot and howling, fucking him slow and deep into the bed. No, he wouldn’t mind going again at all. Steve clenched his teeth as come soaked into the rose pink satin, leaking from his stretched out asshole. He almost wished Billy would put his fingers back inside, even as sore as he was. He missed the touch, the pressure. He felt sort of lost without it now, lonely.

(Abandoned, discarded.)

He shrugged instead. He didn’t really like talking about his parents and that definitely wouldn’t help the withered loneliness settling in the bottom of his stomach. One of the best things about dating Nancy was that she’d picked up on that like, right away. He’d never had to explain why because she’d known that his parents were a no-fly zone for him. “Won’t be a problem,” he said simply. “They’re never home.”

Billy gave him another one of those sideways looks that he didn’t know quite how to interpret. Steve has never seen Billy look uncertain before. Finally, he said “You don’t like…owe me or something, Harrington. I got something out of it, too.” Softly, like fingertips stroking Steve’s skin, “I just about fucking died when I came. Pretty sure your ass is the gateway into heaven, princess.”

Heart in his throat, Steve replied “I try to be nice to the people who touch my dick. Nothing more complicated than that.”

Lie. Such a fucking lie. Billy has sweetness on his lips and tongue, softness in each of his fingertips, darkness in his voice. He let him sip from them all and Steve was selfish and greedy. He wanted more, wanted everything Billy would give.

Lightly, he added “And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t drive right now since sitting down is gonna hurt like hell.”

“Yeah, okay,” Billy said, with a casual shrug that didn’t quite sit on the set of his shoulders right. “Get in, princess.” He did that wicked thing with his tongue that made Steve’s face hot. “Lemme take ya for a ride.”

\---

Jesus Christ. It felt like someone had split his skull open with an axe.

“Fuck,” a voice moaned next to him. “Princess? Steve? Steve, are you alright?”

Steve tried to open his eyes and lift his head, feeling a trickle of blood spill down from his hairline. “Wha…?”

“We-” Billy groaned and he felt him shift around on the bench beside him. “We fucking hit something. Shit, I dunno even know where the hell we are…”

Hit something? Yes, they were in the car, driving down one of the dirt backroads, hoping not to catch the speed-trap over on Broadway leading into the main part of town- The front windshield had a massive spiderwebbing crack through it. Steve saw the sign through the window of the Camaro, barely visible between the faded lettering and the weak predawn light. Brimborn Steel Works.

“Oh god,” he croaked, whimpering when he sat up too quickly and the pain in his skull was amplified by ten. Nausea roils in his stomach – not the dehydrated sickness of a hangover, but a result of what is probably a concussion. “We hit a fucking demo…”

“A _what_?” Billy hissed and sat up, stretching out his legs.

Steve panicked when he tried to open the door, sobbing at the pain radiating through his entire head as he bolted across Billy’s body to grab for the handle. “No-no! You can’t-you can’t go out there.” He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to fight the nausea crawling up his throat. “We can’t go outside. Not in the dark.”

“Do. Not. Throw. Up. In. My. Car!” Billy snarled. “If you’re afraid of the dark-”

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, jerking off his seatbelt and opening the passenger door. He went to his knees by the rear door. His stomach heaved and he gagged up gastric acid and good champagne into the dusty road.

With the door open, the night air came rushing in. And Steve could smell it. _Feel_ it on the breeze.

The cold, clammy stillness to the air, dead and rotting. The sickly sweet scent of decayed meat and old blood dried into dust. It made his weak stomach clench harder, though there was nothing left for him to bring up. Shaking, he pulled himself back up, using the Camaro to support his weight, a chill coming over him as he wiped his face and realized he was still bleeding sluggishly. “**_Drive_**,” he choked out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and trying to get his shaking legs to stand. “Billy, we need to leave _now_.”

Billy didn’t understand the danger they were in. He couldn’t possibly, and he probably wouldn’t have tried to get out of the car if he had.

Then again, if Billy hadn’t been getting out of the car, Steve Harrington may have died that night.

Though it had to be said that Steve deserved some credit for preserving his own life. He was semi-prepared for something to happen to him and screamed the moment he felt it grab him by the ankle. “NOOOOOOO!! NOOOO!!”

He struggled and clawed at the ground, refusing to go quietly wherever it was dragging him. Near the car, he heard Billy yell “**_What the fuck is that_**?!?!”

“GET IT OFF ME!” Steve shrieked, thrashing in the dirt and kicking his legs. “NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING!!”

He clawed deep gashes into both of Billy’s arms in his frantic flailing as Billy tried to catch him and pull him back, growing more and more panicked as it dragged Steve into the building and tried to pull him down the basement stairs. “Holy shit,” he said under his breath, pulling hard on Steve’s arms. “_Holy shit._”

“Keep pulling,” Steve hissed, panting with pain and exertion, “Keep pulling, I’m gonna try to get it off me.”

He got Billy to adjust his hold so that instead of yanking on his arms and putting him at risk of dislocating a shoulder, he was grabbing Steve around the waist. Ruthlessly, Steve smashed the appendage clinging to him against the edge of the steps until the creature (the Mind Flayer?) let out a hideous shriek and retreated back into the basement of the steel mill.

Billy and Steve both flew backwards, the air knocked out of them as they smashed into the floor. Even with a concussion rattling his brain, Steve knew they needed to get away from the stairs. “Run!” he gasped, pulling at Billy’s jacket. “The car!”

They dragged each other back to the Camaro, wheezing and exhausted as they closed the doors, still clinging tightly to each other. “You-you aren’t scared of the dark, are you, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve whispered, face hidden in his neck. “Not the dark.”

“What-?”

“Shhh, I have to concentrate for a second.”

“What are you doing?” Billy asked, pulling back to stare at him.

Steve’s eyes were closed, refusing to look back at him because he knew he’d lose his concentration if he did. “I have a concussion and the car is busted,” he muttered, chewing on his lips. “I’m calling for help.”

“How-?”

“Shh.”

El always told him to think of it like a rocket or a firework – to launch it out and wait for it to explode. Steve just had to hope that his message went out far enough.

ELEVEN, he thought, concentrating hard on projecting it outward – up, out above the entire town. Letting it explode into life. He was aware that Billy probably thought he was a fucking lunatic, but after this night, that probably shouldn't surprise him. CODE RED. CODE RED. CODE RED. SOS. SOS. SOS. ELEVEN. CODE RED. SOS. CODE RED. SOS.

Billy’s radio in the Camaro crackled and hissed. “Steve,” El breathed. “Found you, Steve. Jim is coming. Don't leave the car." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot possibly stress enough that you should not ever do the things Billy and Steve do in this fic, but here is another reminder: please negotiate your kinks, don't have unprotected sex with a partner whose status you don't know, and don't drink and drive.


	6. who are these people?

_Who are these people?_   
_I just woke up in my underwear_   
_No liquor left on the shelf_   
_I should probably introduce myself_

Billy was unnerved by Harrington’s silence after the little girl spoke to them on the Camaro’s radio. “How-?”

Harrington looked exhausted, ancient as he tried to hide his face in Billy’s neck. “I’ll tell you the whole damn thing,” he sighed, hands gripping hard onto Billy’s jacket, as though he were still afraid of being dragged off somewhere by that…whatever. Tentacle thing. “But not right here, not right now.”

Steve’s eyes darted between each of the windows, nervously watching the darkness around them. Billy said, “How did you know we were in danger?”

“That thing we hit,” he said with a dry swallow. “We call them Demodogs. They’re small Demogorgons.”

“Demogorgons,” Billy repeated. “Like the Greek chicks with snakes for hair?”

He shrugged. Harrington’s eyes have never stopped watching the night. “Dunno. Some nerd thing the kids came up with.”

“The kids?” he asked, brows raising. “The pack of brats who follow you around like ducks, those kids?”

“Yes, those kids,” he admitted quietly. “They…I dunno, they use this nerdy book to name the things.”

If he hadn’t saw what he’d just seen, Billy would think Harrington had gone off the very deep end. “So they all know about this thing?” He frowned. “_Max_ knows about this shit?”

“I promise, I’ll tell you the whole stupid story,” he vowed. “When we’ve had more than two hours of sleep and I’ll not about to piss my pink satin panties.” Steve’s leg was shaking furiously, practically vibrating the car with his nerves.

Gently, Billy put a hand on his thigh and squeezed. His leg stilled. “So, we hit the Demogorgon…thing…?”

“Demodog,” Steve corrected, letting out a shaky exhale. Absently adding, “Little ones are Demodogs.”

“That was a fucking _little_ one?” Billy blurted out, horrified.

He nodded. “The full-size Demogorgons are probably twice that size.” He touched Billy’s forehead and Billy winced as it stung. Steve showed him his fingers, which came away bloody, and gestured to the blood coming from his own scalp. “They’re attracted to the smell of fresh blood, no matter what size they are.”

**_Drive_**_. Billy we need to leave _now.

Too bad he couldn’t get the engine to turn over.

“So what was that thing?” he pressed, waving his hand back at the building. The Demo-whatever didn’t have tentacles things like the thing that had grabbed Steve.

“Not sure,” Steve admitted. “I think…maybe that was the Mindflayer.”

Oh, that sounded just fucking _delightful_. “What the hell is a _Mindflayer_?”

“It’s...” Steve shook his head. “The others could really explain this better than me. Basically, it steals your body, takes control of you.”

“It was trying to fucking _possess you_?!” Billy demanded, aware that his voice was getting too loud for such a small space.

“Uh-huh,” he said, now looking much calmer than anyone living in an actual horror film should be. Then again, Billy was apparently _also_ in this film. He just hadn’t been aware of the genre until now.

They both froze as a car rumbled up the road towards them. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Finally. I hope he brought a fucking gun. Shit, I shouldn’t have let you drive – I left the nail bat in the Beemer. Stupid.”

Billy stared at him. “The baseball bat with nails? That was _yours_? You just fucking carry a weapon in your car with you?”

Steve gestured at the darkness around them. “I like to be prepared, okay?!”

Hopper’s truck stopped right beside the Camaro, the high-beams left on. He rolled down the window, and then rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he said, looking at Billy. To Steve, he said “Casual, eh?”

He had to bite back a grin as Steve blushed, trying to play it cool. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Hopper said dryly. “Go on. Get your asses in here before the fucking thing comes back. We’ll call a mechanic to pick up the Camaro in the morning.”

They both scrambled out on the driver’s side, sprinting for the cab. Behind them, in the steel works, a horrible shriek came from the depths of the basement as whatever was inside realized that its prey was escaping.

“Fuck!” Billy howled, grabbing for the door, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up. Hopper, he realized, had a rifle held ready out the open window and was watching the building with a steely eye.

The gun went off as the two boys rounded the car and another shriek pierced the stillness of the night air. Steve slammed the door behind them and Billy realized that princess was still holding his hand tight. _Fuck it_, he thought, _we almost died_, and didn’t let him go.

The inside of the truck was silent as Hopper continued down backroads that Billy barely even recognized. It started to make him nervous when in the middle of a road going through the woods, he cut the engine, but kept the lights going. He turned to stare straight at Billy, direct and unnerving. “So. Hargrove. Have some fun tonight? Doing a little drinking, a little necking, drive around a bit?”

He was already sure that Hopper wasn’t about to call him names and hit him, but even so, Billy felt his heartbeat speed up, his palms sweating. Princess breathed steadily behind him, warm air gentle on his neck. That…that actually helped a lot. “Yes, sir.”

“You have a lot to drink tonight?” Was he seriously trying to give Billy a drunk driving lecture right now?

“Chief,” Steve said quietly “We were barely tipsy by the time we left. He stopped it from dragging me into the basement. A Demodog wrecked his windshield. He isn’t just going to forget it by the morning.”

Oh.

The Chief sighed, sounding very tired. “Fine. You’ll get the whole story, then. But not right now. I’d actually like to sleep longer than three hours at a time at least once this week.”

Steve winced, pulling a guilty face. “What about the-the Mindflayer?” he asked, looking back in the direction of the steel works. “We can’t just let leave it back there in the basement to trap someone else.”

Hopper smiled grimly. “I’ll make sure El eats a big breakfast.”

“The girl on the radio?” Billy asked, without bothering to conceal his confusion. “Wait, that little girl at the pool today?”

“Yeah, she…El…” Steve shook his head. A smile, slightly bewildered, crept over his face. “I’ll let her introduce herself to you. I’d never be able to explain her.”

Hopper let out a cynical, oddly fond laugh. “Welcome to my world, Steve. She said you did a good job, getting her attention.” He glanced over at the two boys, turning into Loch Nora. “She’s wanted to meet your friend for a while. Rambled on for days – I couldn’t figure out what the hell she was talking about at first.”

Billy grinned at the princess’s face, red as a blushing bride. “Uh…she never said anything. To me.”

The Chief shook his head. “She’s pretty excited to have a new member of ‘the party’,” he said, with a roll of his eyes as they began pulling up the Harrington’s driveway. “You know how the kids are.”

Princess looked like someone had smashed the back of his head in with a frying pan. “What the hell is ‘the party’?”

“It’s- basically, it’s anyone who knows about this stuff. It’s another one of their nerd things,” Steve mumbled, without meeting Billy’s eyes. “Sorry, I know you don’t wanna hang out with a bunch of kids. She’s-I’ll try to explain it to her.”

Hopper gave Steve a look that he couldn’t see, but Billy could.

“You do,” Billy said, nudging him slightly. “You hang out with them.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Instead of coaxing more out of him, Steve’s shoulders lifted up to somewhere near his ears. Then they saw the house and Hopper rolled down the window. “Would you like to be grounded for the summer?”

It was the girl from the pool, only this time she was wearing street clothes and waiting on Steve’s front steps.

“Welcome Steve home!” she argued, pouting. Billy was reminded again of someone who didn’t quite know English yet, even though El’s accent was pure Midwest. And he still couldn’t figure out how this little girl, who wasn’t any bigger than Maxine, was supposed to get rid of that thing that attacked Steve. “Don’t like home alone.”

Hopper let out a loud, resigned sigh. “Yeah, kid. I know you don’t.”

“Sleepover?” she asked brightly, and Hopper glared at her.

“You are _really_ pushing your luck, Jane.”

Jane? El huffed. “Tell Billy about the Upside Down. Meet the Party.”

“El…” Steve said, in the same patient, soothing voice that gave Billy chills earlier that day. “…Billy isn’t _in_ the Party.”

Her big soft spaniel’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Steve…need partner. Jim and Joyce. Mike and Will. Lucas and Dustin. Nancy and Jonathan. El and Max. Steve need partner!” she says insistently, looking quite passionately stubborn about the issue. She tugged on Steve’s arm. “Friend! Keep Steve safe! Need! Need!”

“Sweetheart, I told you,” he said quietly, trying to get her to calm her down again. “There’s no reason to be worried about me. You’re gonna take of the monster in the morning – I’m not in any more danger than anyone else is.” 

Her lower lip trembled, eyes beginning to look shiny. Wow, that face should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction. Steve looked like someone had kicked him right in the balls. Billy honestly couldn’t blame him. “But _sad_,” she whimpered, pleading with him as she tugged at his arm. “Sad _lots_. Need friend, Steve.”

“El,” Hopper said quietly, looking at the mortification on Steve’s face. “It’s time for you to get back in bed. Steve, you mind a sleepover?”

“No,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Not at all. Chief, don’t bother driving back, all three of you can pick any room you like. I’m going to sleep until forever now.”

Oh, fuck that. Billy wasn’t letting the princess out of his sight – the last time he did, he’d almost been dragged into Hawkins Hell (which was a phrase Billy used to think was redundant, but was maybe more literal than he’d previously assumed).

He followed the perky swaying heart-shape of his ass all the way up to his room. Steve side-eyed him. “What are you doing?”

Billy leered and licked his teeth. “Wanna see the princess’s royal tower.”

“How can you possibly be horny right now?”

Ouch. Yeah, that was what this was supposed to be about, wasn’t it? He couldn’t just tell the princess it was because he was half in love with him, just fucking stupid for him and that sweet soothing voice he used on a nervous child. His long legs and long eyelashes. His candy-pink mouth and the way it formed Billy’s name. His big dewy eyes and the way they watched the night, focused and brave. The princess’s hand in his, narrower and longer than his own.

“Maybe I just wanna check your panty drawer,” Billy drawled, with a sharp-toothed grin as they walked into the princess’s room. It was an absolutely hideous collection of blue and white plaid. Shit, he’d hate to get high in here. He’d probably feel like he’d entered another dimension.

Steve, he realized, was red-faced and avoiding his eyes, plucking nervously at the edge of the duvet.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, because he’d just been joking. “Really?”

“Really what?” princess said, the color of a tomato, flinging his shirt carelessly across the room. His stolen pink underwear showed above the line of his jeans.

Billy thought of drawers full of silk and lace, waiting to lay over the princess’s creamy skin, and his mouth watered. Steve jumped as Billy’s arms wrapped around him, nearly bare chest to completely bare back. “Show me, princess,” he whispered in his ear, kissing on his neck. “Lemme see your pretties.”

“I-I-” He was so sweetly breathless that Billy kissed him again, smoothing his hands down Steve’s belly. Weakly, Steve said “I’m tired and my head hurts, Billy.”

“So get ready for bed,” he murmured. “Look, I’ll help you.”

It was almost painfully intimate, his cock still soft and vulnerable below the satin, and Billy was gentle as he pulled down the zipper. Steve’s breath hitched “Billy…”

Princess could get any fucking thing he wanted, with Billy’s name is his mouth. Made Billy feel crazy, feel wild, his heart kicking up a pace. “C’mon, princess. I know my come leaked all over these pink ones. Show me where you keep ‘em,” he coaxed, pulling jeans and panties down the firm muscles of his thighs. “I’ll pick you out something pretty to sleep in.”

Steve lifted hands that both shook, reaching for the second drawer. The top of the drawer was nothing but the kind of underthings Billy would’ve expected from the princess, based on his outer wardrobe – designer briefs in mostly neutral colors of gray, white, black, and navy. He dug to the back, revealing over a dozen pairs of women’s panties buried underneath the standard rich boy briefs. Sexy silk, delicate lace, innocent cotton, daringly sheer nylon.

“Pretties for my princess,” he breathed in Steve’s ear, stroking over his bare hips and feeling him shudder. He lifted a pair in violet lace.

Steve shook his head. “Can’t-can’t wear those,” he stuttered hoarsely, heavily flushed along his cheeks and ears. “Have to shave my legs and down around my-my prick, to wear lace, or it-it pinches the hair.”

Billy’s mouth had suddenly gone dry. “You shave yourself?” he growled, running his hands possessively down Steve’s thighs. Running his fingers gently across his soft cock and the hair at his balls, cupping them to feel their weight. “You shave yourself smooth and wear these around, princess?”

Steve’s voice had gone thick and shaky. “Sometimes.”

Billy groaned and gave a last kiss to the mole beneath his left ear before picking up a cotton pair in pastel mint green with white stripes. He kneeled behind him, kissing the dimples along his spine, lovingly tracing the heart-shaped buttocks with his fingers. “Be a good boy,” he whispered, lips still brushing the dimples. “And lift your legs for me.”

With another shudder, princess hung unto the dresser as he lifted his feet, letting Billy slide the panties up his long legs. Billy stood and the princess turned around to face him. He got a pleasant surprise when he leaned forward to kiss him, lips just pressing to his. Slender fingers traced their way up the front of his fly and unbuttoned Billy’s jeans for him.

“Commando again?” Steve murmured against his mouth and it was Billy’s turn to shudder, his skin yearning for that soft touch. No one else touched him this way, like his skin was delicate and should be treated that way. “You should be nicer to your skin.”

He petted at Billy’s sides, and then reached over and picked out a silky pair in bubblegum pink with white polka dots, and a bit more of a forgiving stretch around the waist and legs. Princess stared at him through his eyelashes, blushing in his girly underwear. “Lift your legs, Billy.”

God, he went half-crazy when princess said his name. If anyone asked, he’d have to say that was why he let the princess slip silk panties over his ass, tucking his cock gently into the smooth slippery fabric. Steve kissed his mouth again, so sweetly, making Billy’s heart beat so fast he thought he was gonna die.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve breathed, delicately sweeping his fingertips over his spine. “You look so good in these, Billy.”

“I look like _gum_,” he said, slightly punch-drunk and grinning against his mouth. The princess giggled into their clumsy kiss. This night was starting to feel like a fucking dream.

“We both do,” he agreed, then tugged on Billy’s hand.

Billy didn’t remember falling asleep, because it happened almost as soon as they laid down.

\---

“Billy,” said a voice. “Billy.”

“G’way, Maxine,” he mumbled, gripping his pillow tighter. The pillow whimpered.

The voice giggled. “Not Max. El.”

He squinted his eyes open. “El?”

She nodded, eyes bright and hair fluffy. “Basement fixed. Jim says ‘wake up now’!”

His pillow groaned. “I was going to help,” Steve said mumbled, pulling his face out of the blankets. “Why did you guys go alone?”

“Not alone,” she replied cheerfully. “Brought Jonathan. Nancy. Nancy made…”

In one hand she made a motion like shaking a can of hairspray, and in the other, made a motion like she was flicking a lighter. “Woosh!” she said, looking far too delighted at the idea of a homemade flamethrower. He couldn’t picture that from Wheeler, but there were a lot of things happening to him he couldn’t have pictured. “Everywhere. Steve was hurt. Left Billy to watch you. Take care of.”

She looked far too pleased about that too, and Billy remembered her insistence that Steve needed someone. _Sad_, she’d said, _sad lots_.

If Billy had his own pleasure at being the one she entrusted to fill that role, he was trying not examine that too closely. Steve groaned again and face-planted into the mattress. “El,” he said, muffled by the sheets. “Kid, what am I gonna do with you?”

She pulled his arm. “Come. Tell Billy about Upside Down. Meet Party.”

And that was how Billy found himself on the same couch he had sex with the princess on for the first time. Five other children and four other adults were spread out around the room.

It was a messy process, telling Billy about how this strange group of people formed. And the first hurdle was El.

Or Eleven, as she informed him.

“No fucking way,” he said flatly, glancing at them as El told him, with a straight face, that she had psychic powers. Max was chewing her fingers in the corner, staring at him nervously. “You’re seriously fucking with me.”

El’s eyes scanned his face and she murmured “Seven feet.”

“What?”

She was distracted when she spoke, as though she were speaking to him and listening to someone else at the same time. “You told her the waves were seven feet,” she said again. “She wore a white dress, with a flower, and yellow sandals. Covered in sand. She was pretty. She was really pretty, and you were happy.”

Billy stared at her blankly, unaware that he was crying until Max whispered “Billy”, quiet and upset. El’s brows were pinched. She looked sad. “Was that the last time you saw her?”

He wiped his face quickly and scowled. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “It was.”

So. Yeah. His little sister’s best friend was a psychic grown in a secret government laboratory, which was why her speech lagged and she somehow knew about the last time Billy had ever seen his mother again. Actually, that kind of explained why Max liked her, if he was honest.

It did a lot, though, to explain why this group of weirdos were bound so tightly together. Into the…Party?

“And Billy is now, too. I’m the Mage,” Eleven informed him proudly. Of course she was, what the hell else would she be?

“What?! No!” Wheeler – young Wheeler – blurted out. And if Billy didn’t know the boy was whipped for her already, he knew it when he immediately backtracked at the displeased look on El’s face. “He…he doesn’t have a function.”

“Help Steve,” El said firmly. “Others have partner. Steve need partner.”

“What does Steve do?” Billy asked her, amused. Princess was suddenly finding the carpet fascinating and his face was as pink as Billy’s silk panties. He was too goddamn cute to handle.

Annoyingly, Wheeler butted in again. “Oh, Steve’s the Paladin, he tanks for the team,” he said, a bit dismissively. “He’s supposed to take damage and provide a distraction for us. He’s good at taking a beating.”

Mike seemed to realize that he was talking about a real live person and not a game character at the last minute. Wheeler the Elder hissed “_Mike_! What the fuck?!”

The princess shrugged. Billy was a bit annoyed at how unconcerned he was at being designated ‘the Party’ punching bag. “If my options are take a beating or let one of you get hurt, my choice will always be the same.”

“Not sure how he’s supposed to help,” Henderson said mistrustfully. He and Sinclair were giving Billy narrow-eyed stares. Which was fair. “He’s of one the reasons Steve had to tank for us in the first place.”

“I don’t like being lied to,” Billy said, returning his glare. To princess, he added “And you have no goddamn poker face, what the hell were you thinking, trying to lie right to my face like that?”

“Friends don’t lie,” El said, and she seemed to be agreeing with him. She was looking quite pleased with herself again.

Thoughtfully, little Byers said “You can be the Berserker!” He seemed…shockingly sane? For someone who’d spent a week in Hawkins Hell. Then he blinked owlishly as he realized Billy’s attention had turned to him. “They’re sort of the opposite of the Paladin,” he said, more quietly. “They cause as much damage as they can and don’t care about how hurt they get.”

Billy laughed, and he could tell by Max’s face that it wasn’t the good laugh. “Billy…” she whispered hesitantly, away from the others. “Your dad’s been looking for you. He seemed…um…”

“Mad?” he said shortly. “Is he ever any other mood when it comes to me?”

She seemed anxious. “No, but…”

He looked at her sharply. “He ain’t hurt you, did he?”

He let himself feel relief when Max’s eyes met his, startled. “No. But I’ve never seen him that mad, Billy.”

He didn’t laugh at her, though he’d like to. Neil being mad wasn’t anything new in his world. “Well, he’s gonna keep being mad. The Camaro got wrecked and I need to be at work in half an hour, Max. If he asks, tell him I’ll be home tonight.”

“Okay.” Maybe she did have some instincts about Neil after all, because Max still looked worried.

Billy didn’t know why. It wasn’t her ass gonna get beaten from one end of that house to the other.

He’d just about rather do anything in the world but go back to the house his father lived in – including face that thing in the steel mill again and chew off one of his own hands – but Billy had no better choices. He needed to stay under Neil’s roof for just another couple of months, just until he had enough money to make the security deposit for a studio apartment.

Heart sinking, Billy realized it was gonna take even more time now. He had some money already saved, but now the Camaro would have to be fixed.

Billy would have to face the music, whether he liked it or not.

The princess dropped him off at work, big Byler having picked up the Beemer for him from Tommy’s house. “Wait,” he said, before Billy could get out of the car. He bit his lip and took something from his pocket. “Here.”

Panties, black silk with panels of ivory lace, designed to show off the buttocks of the wearer. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the hell out of this,” Billy said, mouth quirked. “But why are you giving me these?”

“They’re my favorite,” princess admitted lowly, eyes turned away from him. “Um…thought you might like to borrow them…for a while.”

Fuck, he couldn’t shove his tongue down Steve’s throat in public. “You gotta know,” he murmured instead, shoving the garment in the pocket of his denim jacket. “You ain’t gonna be gettin’ these back clean, baby.”

“Billy!” he said, blushing, oh so sweet.

He stared at the princess from beneath his lashes, fingering the silk in his pocket. He tried to commit the shape of his mouth, the creaminess of his skin to memory. He had no idea when he’d be able to see him again.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he vowed huskily, lightly touching his neck, tracing his fingers across all the beauty marks one last time. “I guarantee I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”


	7. don't think i'll ever get enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this became unexpectedly depressing, so sorry about that!
> 
> tw: suicidal thoughts, depression, steve's giant abandonment issues, and the surprise at the end!

_Memories tend to just pop up_   
_Drunk pre-meds and some rubber gloves_   
_Five thousand people with designer drugs_   
_Don’t think I’ll ever get enough_

For the third time in a row, Steve found himself at a rager attended by at least half of the recently graduated senior class, but Billy was nowhere to be found. Part of him worried that he’d already fucked off back to California without bothering to say any goodbyes, but Max hadn’t said anything and he was pretty sure that she’d mention something if Billy had left town. He was still a lifeguard at the public pool, but the two times the kids wanted to go, his work schedule didn’t match up.

She did say that Billy was grounded and he’d had gotten into a fight, but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about that.

So…Steve has been dropped like yesterday’s news.

He knew this was going to happen, he’d never kidded himself into thinking that Billy was like…in _love_ with him or anything, no matter how sweetly he spoke to him when they when their pants were down. But it hurt. A lot.

God, he was such an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking, giving Billy his favorite pair from the hidden panty drawer, slipping Billy his underwear like a souvenir from a lovesick girlfriend?

Steve had a tendency to become easily attached to people who were never as invested in him as he was in them (his parents, Tommy, Carol, Nancy…Billy…). That was maybe why he loved the kids so much – they weren’t on equal ground to begin with. Steve was the adult and he had to watch over them. He was expected to care and no one gave him shit for it when he did. He expected them to grow up and move on from him and it was _okay_. It was normal for them to leave him behind, it meant Steve was doing a good job with them.

He’d always known that he was nothing more than a warm mouth and a pair of willing hands for Billy, but even now, Steve was embarrassed at how fucking _easy_ he’d been. Whisper some nice things, be a good kisser, and Steve Harrington was all yours. More than willing to put out, yeah, he’d _beg_ for a dick in his ass.

Wherever Billy was at, he was probably doing that hyena cackle at Steve’s desperate lack of control right now.

Steve should find a girl and fucking forget about Billy Hargrove all together. He’d probably be relaxed enough to go for it after two beers.

But Steve doesn’t want to do that, he wants to go home and hide in his bed and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a little while.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, throwing his solo cup into the trash and stalking back out to the BMW. He was leaving for the police academy in two months, he didn’t need to do this bullshit anymore.

He fell asleep in a nest of blankets, Christmas lights twinkling overhead, because you aren’t paranoid if they’re really out to get you.

Three hours later, he rolled onto his back and lazily cupped the boner tenting out his briefs as he stretched out over the sheets_. __“Princess, you’re fuckin’ killing me here. Even your hands are pretty. Mm, got hard for me, too, didn’t you?”_

Face alight, Steve angrily shook his head, grinding his teeth together. No, he wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t going to sink to that because the longing ache between his legs was developing an echoing ache near his heart.

Instead of thinking about that, Steve teased himself, rubbing the stiff line of his cock over the cotton with just this side of not enough pressure. He tried to focus as hard as he could on the physical sensations rather than letting his mind settle on any one thing in particular. (One particular person…)

When he had teased until he couldn’t stand the lack of direct contact anymore, Steve pushed the band of his underwear below his balls, squeezing just below the head and lightly scratching his inner thighs with his fingernails. In the end, Steve can’t help it. The moment he got a hand around his cock and started stroking, the sweet trap of his own memories opened up for him again.

_“Don’t you just look like the perfect wet dream?”_

Steve whined, chewing through his lower lip, face hot and cock starting to leak over his belly. He dug his fingers into his own hair, pulling firmly as he stroked.

_“What can I do for the pretty princess?” _

Groaning, Steve tightened his fingers in his hair, twisting his hand around the head of his cock and panting furiously. There was something missing, though, something so close he could almost taste it.

Hesitantly, he released the grip on his hair, sliding his hair down his chest and belly, through the wiry pubic hair and lower, putting a gentle pressure at his hole without trying to breech himself dry. He whimpered at the sweet heat that curled through his body. “_Need that pussy taken care of, don’t you, princess_?”

Light-headed and short of breath, Steve fumbled for the lube. God, Billy was right. He needed something inside him or he was gonna explode. Sometimes, it felt like a piece of the Upside Down had gotten stuck in him. A cold, dark thing that he could dispel, if only temporarily, with heat and pressure.

The slide of one finger had Steve throwing his head back into the pillows and arching his hip up into the touch. “Mm, Billy,” he sighed, totally unaware of what was coming from his mouth. “Billy…”

Heels tucked up to his ass and knees spread apart, Steve tried to recreate the sweet heat of Billy’s push-and-pull rhythm, moaning under his breath, lashes pressed to his cheeks. He whined in frustration when it wasn’t _quite_ enough, not quite there, and eased a second finger in. “Oh-oh-ahhh!”

It was burning, a little bit, but Steve had already discovered that he liked it that way. Made the feeling seem hotter, sharper, and more urgent. _“You let some other man fuck this pussy? You open these long legs and let someone get in this tight pussy, princess?”_

He whined, fucking into his fist, his prick leaking all over himself. Billy had sounded angry about that question – _possessive_ of him. What would he have said if Steve had a different answer for him?

“_Can’t keep your legs closed, princess? Hm? You’re that fucking desperate to get that slutty pussy filled up_?” Billy’s hands were a phantom sensation on his butt and thighs, bruising where they held him. “_Gonna fill you right up, princess. Fill you so fucking good. Gonna get you addicted to this dick. That pussy’s gonna be all mine._”

Steve whimpered and sobbed, tears leaking out from beneath his tightly closed eyelids. “Yes, please, please, yes…oh, fuck…”

He wailed through the white-hot blaze of his orgasm, jizz pouring between his fingers, thrashing furiously on the bed. His whole body pulsed with the strength of the sensation running through him, tormenting himself with a few last prods to his sweet spot and whimpering at the electric sparks that hit his oversensitive nerves.

He sat up slowly and made his way into the ensuite, trying to ignore the stone of dread and loneliness that had replaced the lust. The dread was new, but the loneliness was an old friend. He turned on the hot water.

_Always room for one more, here at the Harrington house_, he thought cynically, and stepped beneath the spray.

\---

Three days later, of course, he was right back at another party because Steve was bored and lonely and he was a shitty boyfriend, but he was a good babysitter and he wasn’t going to make the kids the crutch he leaned on when he couldn’t fucking stand himself – even if apparently he couldn’t hide that from Eleven.

She’s been giving Steve great big puppy dog eyes for the last week, as though she knew how shitty he felt. It didn’t seem to matter how many times her told her that his sadness, as overwhelming as it was for him, wasn’t a problem she was responsible for fixing. El had decided that it was her personal mission to make Steve happy again.

(She _knew_. She _had_ to know about the nights that Steve spent at the quarry, staring at the black hole that waited below and wondering if it would really be that bad if he dropped himself in. He didn’t _want_ to think that she knew – the kid didn’t deserve to have that in her head, but there was no other way he could explain El’s clinging and her insistent worry and if he were honest, that was probably the biggest part of the reason he’d never gotten serious about the contemplation.

If he did it, she’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. They all would. His job was to protect them, even if Steve had to protect them from himself. He’d already kinda failed at that for El, the least he could do was keep himself alive so she didn’t have to feel guilty about not saving him.)

So, he was at another party and he was holding another beer, and Steve was feeling just about as enthusiastic about the circumstances as he was last time…

…when a shout echoed through the crowd…

“BILLY!”

“WHAT’S UP, MAN?!”

“HEY, IT’S BILLY!”

…and his stomach dropped…

…and then Steve was weaving his way through the crowds, trying to escape the sudden ground zero this backwoods bonfire has now become, even though he knew it meant running away from the safety of people and firelight…

…and then he was beyond the light of the fire and the chatter of the people and…

…he heard the voice of a little girl…

…on a radio, calling for him…

“Steve! Don’t run away, Steve! How is Billy supposed to find you if you run?!” El demanded, and Steve slowly turned within the circle of the dark trees to find that a figure with curling hair was stomping after him.

“Eleven,” Billy hissed into the walkie talkie, and Steve’s heart pounded hard enough that he was sure Billy could hear it. “Girl, if I get Lyme disease from this wild goose chase, I don’t care how old you are, I’m gonna kick your little ass.”

“He’s there,” El insisted earnestly. “He’s hiding! Steve, let Billy find you!”

“Why?” Steve asked suspiciously, hiding himself in the trees.

“Because Billy asked me to-”

“Alright, El, I’ve got it from here,” Billy barked, flicking off the walkie talkie like a fucking jerk. Not that it would matter, El would probably know what was happening either way. He stood in the middle of the woods, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and said “C’mon princess. I didn’t drive out to the middle of the fucking boondocks to chase you through the woods all night.”

Steve wound through the trees like a serpent, never letting himself sit still. “So why did you drive out here?”

“Wanna see my princess,” Billy said lowly, trying to follow his movements through the trees even in the almost total darkness, and Steve’s body sang for him all over again, hummed like they never left that night. “Been lookin’ for you. Finally asked El to find you for me.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked quietly. _My princess_.

He was frozen behind a tree, hidden from sight and trying not to have a heart attack. He couldn’t just lose it the moment Billy was kind to him or he’d never be able to handle it when he walked away. They’d only been doing this less than a month – Billy had been gone over half of that, and Steve had nearly made himself sick because he was too fucking needy. He wasn’t going to stay anymore than Nancy had and Steve couldn’t let himself completely fall apart when he did.

_Be better_, he told himself viciously, _don’t be so fucking easy. So fucking weak. You don’t need him, and you don’t need his goddamn attention so stop tripping over yourself for him. I don’t need him. _

_But I want him._

“Yeah,” Billy echoed.

Steve heard him moving closer and darted out from his hiding place, running in the direction he thought was ‘away’, but he nearly crashed straight into a warm body. Billy caught him by the arms and found his mouth in the darkness, kissing him in that way of his, making love to Steve with his lips.

Every stern lecture he gave himself flew out the fucking window.

“Mm,” he sighed happily, squeezing Billy’s ribs as he pulled him closer. Billy gave a low grunt, their mouths separating. Steve ran his hand across his chest. “Are you-are you wearing bandages?”

Billy nuzzled his cheek, the soft bristles near his mouth rubbing at his skin. “Be gentle with me, princess.”

Steve couldn’t help it – he melted, soft as butter in Billy’s arms. He caressed his taped ribs lightly, leaning into the touch. “You should be resting,” he murmured, though he moaned when Billy began kissing across his jaw and down his neck. “Ah-ah- Billy! You should be laying down!”

“You gonna lay with me, princess? Gonna cuddle up beside me and nurse me back to health?” The words were teasing, but Billy’s voice was almost wistful just then.

“Will that get you to rest?” Steve asked, unable to stop himself from threading greedy fingers through Billy’s blond curls.

“Cross my heart,” Billy murmured into his cheek.

He meant to drive Billy back to his house, and get him to lay down. He really did. But Billy was good at distracting him, and Steve was all too amenable to being distracted.

Billy pressed him into a random car. In the distance, they could still hear the shouting and laughter from the bonfire, but they were far enough away that they couldn’t be easily spotted. “Missed my princess,” Billy said, slipping his hands beneath Steve’s shirt and biting gently at his collarbones. “Jesus Christ, you don’t even want to know what I did to those panties, baby.”

“Wh-what?” Steve gasped, stroking down his back. Coaxed more of Billy’s shirt open and whimpered at the swaths of bandaging over his chest. “What did you do with my panties, Billy?”

“Jerked off with your pretties,” he confessed. “Wrapped them round my dick and thought of going to heaven in that tight pussy of yours again, princess.”

“You can,” he whispered, half-pleading. Falling apart and completely pleading when Billy squeezed his cock through his jeans, whining “Let you-let you fuck me again, Billy.”

“What a nice little princess you are,” he groaned, rough hands sneaking down the back of Steve’s pants. His mouth sucked at each freckle and every mole he could find. “You’re my good sweet princess, aren’t you, baby?”

Steve moaned in the back of his throat. Billy’s hands were spreading his ass apart, fingering lightly at his entrance. “Mm, yours,” he sighed dreamily. “Yes, daddy.”

He was so blissfully lost in letting Billy consume his whole brain that Steve didn’t realize what he’d said, even when Billy stopped and paused. It wasn’t until he said “What” in an oddly blank tone that Steve mentally rewound the last part of their conversation and then…

…the two of them just…

…stared at each other…

…and then Billy backed off slightly…

…staring Steve like he’d never seen him before…

…and Steve’s whole spirit felt like it was fucking dying, disintegrating into ash.

He pulled away from Billy, nearly tripping into the road in his haste to cut off any physical contact from him. Irrationally, he suddenly had the feeling that if Billy touched him again, it would feel like a knife wound or a third-degree burn. As if his judgement and disapproval would be a physical sensation capable of hurting him. And the shame alone was already hurting Steve, needle-sharp in his stomach and all through his veins.

Behind him, Billy hesitantly said “Harrington?”

Steve was not looking back, was too ashamed to see whatever expression had set into Billy’s face. Instead, he stumbled away, jogging back to his own car, fighting back the nausea climbing up his throat.

He heard a lame, unenthusiastic call. “Come back, Harrington!”

He didn’t stop and he didn’t look back.

Billy didn’t go after him.

It took three tries to get his key into the ignition and start the car, and Steve ended up sitting on a side road for nearly an hour anyway. Even if his vision weren’t too blurry to see the road in front of him, his hands were shaking too badly to hold onto the steering wheel.

Steve’s-Steve’s thought of the word before, during the most intense moments of sensation while he was jerking off. But can’t say that he associated it with any particular person and he _never_ dreamed that he’d say it out loud. It was private, a secret fantasy he couldn’t allow himself to bring into reality, because of the exact reaction Billy just had.

Now his secret fantasy had become a real-life nightmare.

Steve was gonna be fucking sick. (Steve _was_ fucking sick.)

He’d barely gotten the Beemer parked before he bolted out of the car and went straight for his parents’ liquor cabinet.

He was gonna get drunk and _stay_ drunk – in fact, Steve decided he might never go back to being sober again! Slow he might be, but he knew he was a goddamn basket case filled with nightmares and weird hang-ups and creepy sex things. The only friends he’d ever been able to keep who actually cared about him and not about _Steve Harrington_ were children and he lived on top of Actual Hell. Poor Eleven was just not ready to accept that her favorite babysitter was a fucking weirdo and Steve was with them because nobody else in town would accept him.

Every person he’d ever loved had found new ways to throw him into the goddamn garbage, and you know what? Maybe that was just where Steve fucking belonged!

Oh, _fuck_ sobriety, fuck sobriety so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we can all agree as a fandom that if Billy knew Steve couldn't masturbate without fantasizing about him, that boy would go fully fucking feral, right? howling in moonlight and running naked through fields feral - Steve's dick would never be lonely again, because Billy would make sure his man was Kept Warm.


	8. no such thing as getting out of hand

_You shoulda seen what I wore_  
I had a cane and a party hat  
I was the king of this hologram  
Where there’s no such thing as getting out of hand

Two weeks earlier…

He knew that it was going to be bad. He expected it to hurt and he certainly wasn’t disappointed in that respect. Neil had found less excuses to hit him now that he was an adult and spent less and less time in the house with graduation and the coming of the summer. But whatever self-control or restraint he’d been exercising when Billy was still in school seemed to have completely evaporated.

“Clean up this mess,” Neil said lazily, as Billy picked himself up from the debris of broken glass that used to be the coffee table. “Don’t want your mother or sister stepping in that.”

He clenched his jaws together to stop himself from replying with _“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have used my ribs to break it, then, douchbag.”_

Though frankly, he couldn’t quite catch his breath long enough for such a long sentence, anyway. At Neil’s look, he managed to choke out a “yes, sir” and nearly cracked a tooth clenching his teeth together at the smugly satisfied look Neil gave him in return.

Of course, he couldn’t pick the glass out of his chest and stomach until after the mess in the living room had been cleaned up.

By the time Billy locked himself in the bathroom to tweeze the shards out of his chest, bandage himself up, and made a minimal effort to clean the cuts on his face, Max and Susan had returned home from their visit to Max’s aunt.

Max stared at Billy as he left the bathroom, at his wrapped torso and the cuts and bruises all over his face he hadn’t even bothered fixing or covering up. “What happened?” she hissed, eyes wide. “Was it-was it about…you know? Were you helping Steve?”

_Oh kid_, he wanted to tell her. _I’ve known that monsters were real my whole life. Those were just uglier than I’m used to_.

“Got in a fight,” he said shortly. “Lenny Meyers kicked the shit outta me and now I’m grounded for six weeks.”

“What did you do that for?!” she demanded.

“Felt like it,” he said, shrugging. One of the main benefits of being known as a raging psychopath was that Billy never needed to have real reasons for doing anything that he did. People just nodded and moved along, no matter how crazy his behavior got.

Unfortunately, the business with the world…below?...beside?...across from?...the Hawkins that they lived in appeared to have made Max either more perceptive or more suspicious. Maybe both. “Why’d you feel like it?” she asked, then frowned. “Did something happen with you and Steve?”

He rolled his eyes to cover the sudden kick his pulse gave. “I think y’all take this ‘Party’ shit a bit too seriously.” Why the hell was she talking about them like they were a couple? “For fuck’s sake, Maxine.”

Grounding meant that he was not allowed to be anywhere but work or out running errands for the household, and he had to be home by ten o’clock no matter what. The sharp pain of the glass he’d had to pick out with tweezers for an hour was a good reminder of why it was a good idea for him to obey.

But _god_, did Billy miss his princess.

The panties – ‘_my favorite’_ – became his one lifeline to ensuring that Billy knew it had all been real and not some crazy drunk hallucinatory fantasy of his. It was sweet torture to imagine Steve actually wearing them for him, coal black silk cradling his cock and the heavy weight of his balls, ivory lace framing the magnificent glory that was his spectacular ass.

“_Fuck me, Billy_-” And was there anything sweeter than that? Then the sound of his name being panted, moaned, keened from the princess’s soft pink lips? “_Fuck me, please. You can-you can put it in_.”

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, fisting his cock in the smooth black silk and picturing his pretty princess’s heart-shaped rear. “Gonna give you all you need, baby. Gonna give you _everything_.”

His dark stare, soft and focused as Billy’s cock disappeared between his lips. Big wet doe’s eyes staring at Billy over his creamy shoulders as he kicked his legs and whined Billy’s name. Bucking into his fingers like a wild thing.

“Take it so good, princess,” he breathed, eyes closed to preserve the image of Steve bent over for him and moaning uncontrollably through mouthfuls of cotton. “Take me so fucking good, like that ass was just made to have me inside you.”

“_Please. I want it, Billy_.”

“You’ll get it, sweetheart.” His fingers, splayed so gently over Billy’s stomach, petting him. Those long gentle fingers pulling pink silk up his legs.

His limbs loose as Billy yanked him backward, frantic to bury himself in Steve’s tight wet heat, and high on the way he could make the princess scream. Princess, heavy and warm and completely boneless in his lap. So pliant and beautifully willing to let himself be used, whimpering, “_Billy, Billy_”.

Billy groaned, muffling the sound into a pillow as he soiled the gift of silk and lace, ruined his princess’s pretties the way he’d ruined him. Evidence of passion left with Steve, secreted behind beautiful rose-petal satin. Sometimes, his brain just got stuck on that moment, frozen in the second of leaving a piece of himself inside him and tucking it away. He’d end up staring into space during the middle of the day, just thinking about that.

“Fuck,” he sighed softly, minutely more relaxed, at least enough to fall asleep now.

God, he _missed_ his princess.

It was gonna catch him another beating, to go out and spend the night with Steve, but everything that usually told Billy he should care was completely silent in his head. He _needed_ him, needed to see him. It was sort of pathetic, actually.

Billy was a decent fuck, a good lay, but he had no illusions. He was dirty white trash fucking the town princess – all Steve had to do was snap those pretty fingers and he’d have half a dozen dicks hard and ready for his pleasure. Tommy H, no matter was bullshit he said about Steve’s beauty marks, had been panting after that perfect ass for over a decade. He’d probably be first in line.

A spoiled brat like Harrington was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. (Billy could admit that he kinda liked that, he kinda liked being the one that could provide what satisfied his high-maintenance, bitchy little princess.) But if Steve wanted a good dicking, he wouldn’t bother waiting around for Billy to give it to him, and even the idea of his princess begging for someone else’s dick was…

He felt weird when he thought about that – thought about the princess, draped over a bed, beautiful in his silk and lace, moaning someone else’s name. Billy felt like he should be angry. Anger was never something he was short on. But all that thought made him feel was pain. A cold sharp pain, like someone splitting him down the center of his ribcage with a frozen knife. What had Steve called it?

Existential terror?

Yeah. That’s what it felt like.

Billy didn’t even care if they fucked. He just needed those gentle hands, touching him all careful, like Billy was fragile and delicate. Like Steve needed to be that gentle with him.

He snuck out a couple of times, but didn’t have any luck finding Steve at the parties he hit and he even tried the quarry, but he wasn’t there, either. He didn’t get caught, but the lower risk meant there had been no reward, either.

Then Billy remembered that Max had one of those walkie talkie things in her room. And he _knew_ that she used that thing to talk to her freaky little friends. At midnight, she was still up when he crept up to her door.

“Gimme that!” he muttered, swiping the walkie talkie from her nightstand and ignoring Max’s quiet ‘hey!’. “You’ll get it back tomorrow!”

Luckily, on this trip he could actually drive now. Billy’s savings were nearly empty, but his car was back in good condition. The Camaro was parked down the street, like always, far enough away that his father wouldn’t A) be alerted by the sound of the engine starting and B) see the car leaving Cherry Street. He still didn’t dare to open his mouth until he was in the driver's seat with all the doors closed.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the road, lightly touching the bandages still taped to his chest. Most of it had healed in the nearly two weeks since Neil threw him into the coffee table, but some of the glass had gone deep, especially around his ribs.

It would be even worse, tomorrow. Billy was going into this knowing that he would be in for it even worse next time when he came home. He was deliberately disobeying Neil this time.

But he was gonna do it anyway.

“I know that you know where Harrington is, Eleven,” he said without preamble.

“Turn left at Maple and Windsor,” El replied, just as succinctly. “Then right when you hit Beech.”

It was a huge bonfire out in the middle of a field, some teenage hick whose parents didn’t care about underage drinking throwing a party.

He heard people shouting his name as he parked the Camaro, and El said “Billy-Billy, he’s going away.” And then, as he got out: “He’s walking into the woods. Billy has to follow him! Isn’t safe!”

“Alright, I got it,” he muttered. “Just shut it for a second, okay?”

He had to stuff the walkie talkie into the back of his jeans as he waded through the crowd of people. “Gotta take a piss!” he shouted, waving off two guys who’d been on the basketball team with him. “Have a drink ready for me!”

As soon as he made it beyond the light of the fire, Eleven called “Steve! Don’t run away, Steve! How is Billy supposed to find you if you run?!”

Feeling like a fool as he stumbled around in the darkness, Billy hissed “Eleven! Girl, if I get Lyme disease from this wild goose chase, I don’t care how old you are, I’m gonna kick your little ass.”

“He’s there!” she said, so earnest. “He’s hiding! Steve, let Billy find you!”

Hiding?

“Why?” a voice called from the dark.

“Because Billy asked me to-”

“Alright, El, I’ve got it from here.” He didn’t need El spilling his whole guts out in the open. The cherry on his cig glowed as he blew smoke out into the night. “C’mon, princess. I didn’t drive out to the middle of the fucking boondocks to chase you through the woods all night.”

“So why did you drive out here?” His voice was moving around, echoing off the trees and hiding where he was.

“Wanna see my princess,” he admitted, clenching his fists as he tried to turn his head to follow Steve’s movements, though it was impossible to see in such low light, especially when he wouldn’t Sit. Fucking. Still. “Been lookin’ for you. Finally asked El to find you for me.”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, again like he _didn’t know_ he was the lead star in all of Billy’s most treasured fantasies. So soft and uncertain. Shaky, kinda.

And again, Billy echoed “Yeah.”

He was pulled to him, a helpless moon in the orbit of his princess’s gravity, and there was movement from the darkness, Steve running straight to him. Billy caught his arms and reeled him in, blindly finding his mouth in the dark. Kissed his princess so nice and sweet that Steve sighed for him, digging into Billy’s ribs as he tried to draw him closer.

Billy grunted, turning him mouth away as he breathed through the sudden sharp pain. Princess ran his gentle hands over the tape and gauze. “Are you-are you wearing bandages?”

He nuzzled into him, feeling a bit weak in a way that was strangely nice. Left his skin warm and humming. He whispered, “Be gentle with me, princess.”

Whatever part of him felt ashamed to plea like that vanished when his good little princess melted against him, touching Billy with those gentle fingers that made him feel drunk with the kindness of him. “You should be resting,” Steve cooed, and Billy was hungry for his softness, kissed it from his creamy skin. Princess whimpered and moaned. “Ah-ah- Billy! You should be laying down!”

“You gonna lay with me, princess? Gonna cuddle up beside me and nurse me back to health?” It was a joke, but Billy would give his right leg to have that.

“Will that get you to rest?” Steve asked, like honey in Billy’s ear, winding those long fingers around his curls.

“Cross my heart,” he murmured, because he was willing to promise his princess the moon right then.

They wandered back through the woods, rows of parked cars around them. The fire was a distant light, and they could hear the shouts and laughter from the party.

Billy pressed Steve into a car, hungry for that softness, licking it from him like his sweat. “Missed my princess,” he confessed, heart unraveling for him right there in the road, hands searching for that smooth, smooth skin. “Jesus Christ, you don’t even wanna know what I did to those panties, baby.”

“Wh-what?” princess gasped, stroking and petting the muscles in Billy’s back. Like he wanted to worship Billy as much as Billy wanted to worship his princess. “What did you do with my panties, Billy?”

_My panties_, fuck, Billy was gonna cream his pants for real. He was so goddamn hard he could barely see straight.

“Jerked off with your pretties,” he whispered, hands tightening around Steve’s hips. “Wrapped them round my dick and thought of going to heaven in that tight pussy of yours again, princess.”

“You can,” princess promised through choked out whimpers, clutching at Billy’s shoulders, voice whining out as he squeezed his cock through the denim of his jeans. “Let you-let you fuck me again, Billy.”

Billy groaned. “What a nice little princess you are.” His hands bullied their way past the band of Steve’s jeans and fondled that dreamed of ass. Each and every mark across his neck and shoulders deserved his attention. “You’re my good sweet princess, aren’t you, baby?”

He felt the princess’s knees tremble as Billy pressed his fingers to his tight little asshole, moaning below his breath. He sighed, low and sweet against Billy’s neck. “Mm, yours. Yes, daddy.”

Like the needle on a record skipping, Billy’s entire brain seemed to hit a snag. “What” he said blankly, unable to wrap his mind around the word he’d heard. Had he heard that word?

Princess stared at him with those big dewy eyes, huge and wet like they were that morning he panicked in the pool.

Had _Billy_ been the one to say it? He was pretty sure he hadn’t but Steve was looking at him so strangely, ribs still as he held his breath, and Billy backed away, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on here for a second.

Then those big dewy eyes went flat and dead, and Steve pulled away from him so quickly that he nearly fell on his ass, yanking away from Billy like he was…like he was poison or something.

_Or something_, Billy thought helplessly. “Harrington?” Steve never looked back at him, never acknowledged that Billy was still there, leaning against somebody else’s car with a rapidly dying hard on. Weakly, he tried again “Come back, Harrington!”

That feeling was back again – that hollow space in his chest like Billy should be angry, but the only thing waiting there for him was pain. Existential terror.

The upside? That beating he was expecting to catch never happened because he ended up climbing through his bedroom window just two hours after he left.

The downside? Although he still didn’t really know how, Billy was pretty sure he’d just fucked up his relationship with the best lay he’d ever had, and that really sucked because Billy was also pretty sure that he was sort of desperately in love with him.

_Or something_.

\---

Two nights later, Billy jerked awake to find that there was a small figure perched at the end of his bed, his bedside light turned on and bathing the room in its orange glow. Eleven stared at him with her spaniel’s stare, sad and accusing. “What did you _do_?”

Bewildered and still only partially awake, Billy flung an arm over his face and mumbled “I don’t fuckin’ know, but if you figure it out, can you explain it to me?”

She was silent for so long that Billy lowered his arm to find her staring at him intently. El had a puzzled expression, like she was trying to solve some kind of complicated math problem. Billy panicked, realizing that if she dug into his head she was probably seeing- “El, don’t- that ain’t for you to-”

“He thinks you don’t like him,” she said, still looking as though she had some very confusing calculus homework in front of her, her mouth opened in a startled ‘o’. “Why-oh. _Sad_.”

He sat up. “Sad? He’s sad?”

El nodded, narrowing her eyes at the gauze taped over his ribs – down to just one square on the right side. “Sad _lots_. Always. He’s-he’s…” She waved her hands around, clearly unable to pick out what she was trying to convey to him. “Steve’s _lonely_, and…he thinks you won’t-that you don’t…feel like he does. He thinks you don’t like him anymore.”

“Yeah?” His heart was on his tongue, thumping so frantically he could practically taste the uneasy rhythm in his mouth. “How does he feel, El?”

“Billy, Billy, Billy,” she said, sing song, and put her hand over her heart. “All he ever wants to think about.” She reached for him, fingers just brushing his necklace. “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he agreed hoarsely. He didn’t need El to tell him that – Billy _knew_ all he ever wanted to think about was the princess.

Her face had gone back to Advanced Calculus. Absently, she wiped the blood trickling from her nose, fishing a blood-stained handkerchief that looked like it had once belonged to Hopper. “Find,” she said suddenly, tugging his arm. “Need. Need. Go. Steve’s house.”

He sat there, wide-eyed, and she snapped “_Go_!”

It wasn’t until he was turning out of Cherry Street that Billy really thought about what she’d been saying. _He thinks you don’t like him anymore._

Oh. That’s what he’d done wrong.

“_What_,” dead with shock as he pulled away, stared at Steve.

He could see it now, in his mind’s eye. The flush fading from his cheeks, the beautiful passionate light in his eyes dying like a snuffed out candle as Billy had continued to stare, stunned into silence.

He’d never even tried to stop him from leaving, destroyed by Steve yanking out of his grip like he couldn’t bear to have Billy’s grimy hands on him anymore.

But that wasn’t true. That couldn’t be true, because less than a minute before, he’d sighed in his ear – “_Mm, yours. Yes, daddy_.” Removed from the heat of the moment, from his startled surprise, Billy felt his palms sweat and his cock stirred in his pants. Oh. That was-that was- “_Yours. Yes, daddy_.”

“Fuck,” he whimpered, biting his lower lip, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. His face prickled with heat. He wished Steve had like…warned him. Something. Hinted at it, so that he wasn’t so wiped out by his own surprise.

The memory of his princess, warm and pliant and willing to do what Billy pleased, calling himself Billy’s, was compelling enough, but that was on a whole other fucking level. Like…like he wasn’t just his, like Billy _owned_ him. Like Steve owned Billy, and he _wanted_ to.

“Fuck,” he breathed again, squirming and sweating against the leather.

The Camaro was the only thing he’d ever owned and it was cherished. She was the only woman he’d ever let into his life.

But no one had ever wanted Billy – not, y'know...to _keep._ He was intense. He was a raging psychopath, chaos personified. 

And no one had definitely ever want to give themselves to him. Why would they? Billy wrecked things, Billy broke shit. Who would trust him with anything important?

Steve, he realized, _Steve_ did.

Billy grinned and licked his lips, drumming his fingers over the steering wheel as he zipped up to Loch Nora, seeing the light on the front porch of the Harrington’s house through the trees. His face was still flushed and his pants were starting to feel a little too tight. “Won’t need to be sad anymore, princess – daddy’s home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my Billy is very touch-starved and i tried to convey that so let's hope that comes through! not gonna lie, his last scene with Eleven kinda informed my decision on that. i'm not sure he even remembers the last time someone touched him with any tenderness T_T 
> 
> i love to hurt myself, i guess!


	9. but i make these high heels work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're gonna have another content warning discussion, because I think this requires a bit of an explanation. Firstly, I don't actually know if Steve's behavior here in the first part could be considered suicidal, but it's so deliberately risk-taking I'm not sure it matters?
> 
> Secondly, Billy is a truly gross person, so this chapter has its own tags which includes: daddy kink, crossdressing, possessive behavior, not safe or sane but very consensual, some dom/sub dynamics, jealousy, dirty talk, sadomasochism, spanking, hair-pulling, humiliation, name-calling, rough sex, tiny breeding kink, rimming, facefucking, deep throating, choking, spitting, dacryphilia, praise kink, oversensitivity, spit as lube, come as lube, really there's a lot of bodily fluids here, watersports? (nobody's gonna like...drink it, tho, sorry if that's what you were secretly hoping for. this isn't actually about either of them having a piss kink, it's more about Billy being delighted to discover that the list of things Steve won't let him do doesn't really exist?), more crossdressing, and GOD SAVE THE QUEEN THEY FINALLY KINDA HINT ABOUT THE FACT THAT THEY ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER.
> 
> TL;DR: Billy is a disgusting goblin king and Steve has no interest in learning how to tell him 'no'.

_I’m a scholar and a gentleman  
And I usually don’t fall when I try to stand  
I lost a bet to a guy in chiffon skirt  
But I make these high heels work_

He wasn’t really sure if he was drunk or high – he was comfortably certain that he wasn’t sober and that was the part that was critical to maintain. Non-sobriety was now a requirement for day to day life, since apparently nobody could stand him and Steve sure as fuck couldn’t stand himself anymore.

Steve stared dreamily up at the starry sky above him as the warm water lapped at his skin, and lifted the joint back up to his lips. His hair floated around him like a dark halo and the chlorinated water had soaked through his nylons and panties hours ago. All of the pink and cream colors and ruffles in this set always made him think about cake and he was starting to get hungry. When had he ate last? He wondered if the sky looked this way in the Upside Down.

Stubbing the joint out on the edge of the pool, Steve floated and stared up at the sky and wondered how he’d be able to tell if he suddenly dropped into the Upside Down. He thought about the water just becoming a portal to that other world. The part of him that was anxious about the pool, that knew it was dangerous to be in the water at night, especially alone, was kept silent through the smoke in his lungs and the heavy pulse of red wine through his veins.

He wondered why he was wearing a garter belt and lipstick right now. <strike>Why he needed Daddy.</strike> Why he wanted Billy so badly, and had become attached to him so quickly.

There was just something really wrong with him, Steve guessed. There had to be. ‘Cause he was never happy unless he was about to come outta his skin. He was never relaxed unless he’d been yanked to the edge of his seat. He wanted to be chewed up and spit out and dragged back together again. Steve wanted to be ripped to pieces, but only in the nicest way. The way Billy could make him cry with shame and feel like his heart would explode with tenderness.

“Ain’t safe in there, princess.”

Billy – that was Billy’s voice.

But that was silly. Silly Billy. Because Billy didn’t want him anymore. He wasn’t anyone’s princess. “I know,” he sighed, arms spread wide to welcome the night. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What’re ya doing, baby? _Oh_.” His voice was moving closer. “You got dressed up in your pretties.”

“’m nobody’s baby. Nobody’s princess,” Steve sulked, rolling off the raft and into the water. The warmth and weight of it was almost like human touch, a close enough substitute for what he wanted – at least while he was high. Sober it never made him feel any better. Petulantly, he added, “’m just a dumb slut.”

“Aw, princess, don’t be that way,” Billy cooed in a coaxing tone. To Steve’s surprise, his physical body was right there, crouched at the pool’s edge. He held out a hand and crooked his finger. “Come here and sit on Daddy’s lap, baby.”

Steve froze within reaching distance of Billy. He felt kinda shaky all of a sudden, overwhelmed. Billy’s eyes looked nearly black and he was staring at Steve all intense like he did sometimes. Like he was gonna eat him alive. And Steve wanted to be chewed up, and spit out, and dragged back together again. Petulant and hurt, he said “Maybe I ain’t wearing this for you.” Bitterly, “After all, a warm hole is a warm hole, right?”

Billy made a terrifying sound that warned him just a moment too late before he grabbed Steve hard by the upper arm, dragging him up onto the deck. “Who?!” he ordered loudly and shook him slightly, growling out “I hope you don’t like him too much, princess, ‘cause I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Steve yelped as his arm was twisted behind his back, Billy’s strong thighs on either side of his own. “You didn’t-you don’t even want me!” 

“I say that to you?!” he demanded, pressing his heavy weight down on his back. Steve’s prick was getting hard beneath the ruffles of silk and lace. “Did I ever fuckin’ _say_ I don’t want you?”

Steve gasped, choking on his own saliva as the thick ridge of Billy’s cock pressed between his ass cheeks. And he wasn’t just _getting_ hard, either. “That proof enough for you? You wanna keep acting like a fucking brat?”

Billy’s wrist was beside his head. Steve hissed angrily, shoving his ass back against the pressure of his dick and biting him at the same time.

“_BITCH_!” he roared, letting go of Steve’s arm to swat him hard across the ass, using enough force to make Steve’s skin hot and tingly with the pain. His head was spinning and he was too goddamn high. He wanted more – he wanted harder, faster, rougher.

“Uhhh,” Steve groaned instead, and shoved back on Billy’s prick harder, rubbing himself on that thick cock shamelessly.

“Okay,” he heard Billy growl behind him. “You don’t want to be a princess, I ain’t gonna treat you like one.” Steve gasped again as Billy grabbed him by the hair and started pulling him up. “Come on, bitch, I’m gonna destroy that cunt.”

_Oh my god, yes_.

He didn’t realize until Billy laughed that he’s said it out loud. He didn’t even try taking him upstairs to fuck him in a proper bed – instead, Billy threw Steve down on the living room floor and shoved his face into the cream colored carpets, wedging his cock between the round muscles of his ass again.

Then Billy started hitting him again, swatting him across the ass and even leaning down and spitting into his open mouth before pushing his face back to the floor. “Show me that pussy, Stevie,” he commanded, fisting a hand through his hair. Steve hesitated and Billy yanked on the strands. “Pull them down and show me your ass or the only thing going in that tight little hole tonight will be your own fucking fingers, Steve.”

He fumbled to get a hold on the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down the backs of his thighs. Immediately, Billy had his hands all over him, Steve braced against the carpet as he was spread open. “You fuckin’ liar,” Billy murmured, pushing at the tight rim of his ass with dry fingers. “You ain’t had anyone in you.”

Okay, Steve was gonna have an excellent comeback to that. Really, a truly devastating reply was waiting to be unleashed but…there were important complications to factor in here. The first was that Steve was just…very high. The weed and the red wine were in a duel and weed was winning hands down. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, and every word he heard seemed to have a delay between his ears and his brain.

Second, during that moment of pause while Steve was getting the sludge in his brain to compute the words his ears had been given, Billy had taken the opportunity to hold his ass open and started biting at the full meat of his cheeks and scraping his teeth along the black lace of his stockings. In hindsight, it seemed very obvious what was about to happen, but because he was naïve and high, Steve was taken completely by surprise when Billy started licking.

Which, really, felt like a very gentle way of describing the activity he engaged in.

Billy buried his face between his ass cheeks and begun hungrily devouring his hole, sucking and nibbling at the rim and immediately, Steve’s face and cock were hot.

“Ahhhh-nnnn whatthe_fuck_!” he cried, scratching blindly at the carpet. “Billy?! Aha-ha-haaa, _BILLY_, you can’t _put your_ **_mouth_** _there_!”

Billy gave him an especially wet lick, shaking his head like a dog and lashing his tongue over Steve’s asshole. “Huh, looks like I can,” he said thoughtfully, giving his ass another harsh slap, this time without the protection of silk and lace and it had Steve’s cock jumping between his legs. “Bitch, I don’t wanna hear from you unless you’re gonna beg for my dick.”

He was roughly spread open, Billy’s rings digging into vulnerable flesh, and the tongue came back, this time stiffened to probe into his body, piercing Steve through with wet wriggling heat. Steve was left to whimper on the rug while Billy did what he pleased to him.

“Ohgod ohgod ohgoddddd.” Whining, he yanked fitfully at his own hair and squirmed on his tongue. Billy’s thumbs were pulling at the rim of his asshole, rubbing and stretching him open and that made it feel even filthier somehow. The bristle of hair around his mouth scraped across his oversensitive skin and the combination of sensations was almost unbearably pleasurable.

Billy pulled away and he whined a protest of “No!”. Billy laughed meanly, spitting into his open hole and dipping two fingers inside instead. Pulling at Steve’s hair, he whispered “Maybe I should just do this to you, all night long. Finger your tight ass and jerk off on your face, leave you hard and sore and begging for some dick.”

“Please,” he whimpered, tears soaking into the carpet. He could feel the precum drooling out of him and onto the rug. “Please. Wanna feel you, Billy.”

“Yeah?” Over his shoulder, he could see Billy’s stare and shivered at the coldness in it. “Fuckin’ desperate bitch like you, I should find a street corner to sell this tight ass on. At least then when you’re bending over for someone else, I get paid.” Mocking Steve’s earlier words, “A hard cock is a hard cock, right, Stevie?”

“No,” he whimpered, sick at the thought. “Want Billy.”

“Who?” he demanded harshly, grinding into the spot inside Steve that lit him up like a livewire.

“Haaaah, D-Daddy! DADDY! Want Daddy!!” he sobbed, fingers clawing at the cushions of the sofa as Billy’s fingers fucked him cruel and relentless. There was a groan of leather as he tore one of them open. “Only want Daddy inside me!”

Billy’s fingers were yanked out of him and before Steve could start screeching about that, the room spun. Billy grabbed Steve and pushed him down onto his back, and he could only widen his eyes as Billy straddled his shoulders and started unbuckling his belt. “Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, stroking himself. Steve’s mouth watered. Billy’s cock was pulsing in his own hand, the head flushed a dark angry red. “This is going in your ass next, so you’d better make my dick nice and wet.”

Billy held his head still with a fist back in his hair and guided his cock into his waiting mouth. Steve actually moaned as he slid across his tongue, hot and silky. Above him, Billy gave a breathless laugh. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fuck,” he moaned, spreading his knees apart to plunge deeper. Steve was drooling around the girth of him, gagging softly as he nudged his throat, spread out on the floor and completely unresisting as Billy started to fuck his face. “I knew it, I knew you were a greedy cockslut, baby. Fuck, I love your mouth.”

It was most the gently Billy had spoken to him since Steve had taunted him.

Steve’s lashes fluttered and he squeezed his thighs together, trying to quell the aching throb in his belly. Billy was breathing hard, hands shaking in Steve’s hair, nudging deeper and deeper into his throat. “Take it, take it, I know you can, baby.” Steve choked and swallowed, tears and snot flowing down his face, struggling to breathe past his thick girth. Billy wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes, almost cradling his skull now. “You look so good, honey. So pretty when you’re cryin’ with my dick in your mouth.”

Steve whimpered, pressing his thighs together even harder. _Baby. Honey. So pretty_. A fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks and when Billy took his cock away, he gasped, trembling and wheezing for air. He was on a razor’s edge when Billy pushed up on the back of his knees, spat on his hole and started to slide inside. Halfway in, Steve thrashed and keened loudly, clawing more gouges and rips into the leather sofa. It was so good, so overwhelming, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over so quickly.

Billy hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing Steve by the throat. “Stop it! Hold fucking still, would you?!”

He squeezed down and that was all Steve could take. His eyes rolled back and his balls tightened. Billy whispered “Holy Shit, Steve” as he watched him shake, coming from the pressure on his windpipe and Billy’s prick, hot and thick inside him. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, spunk coating their bellies in sticky warmth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Shhh, it’s alright, baby.” Billy’s hand cupped his face, the metal rings cool against the flushed skin. His body was limp as Billy gathered him close and kissed his lips. “You gonna stop being such a huge bitch now and let Daddy treat you good?”

Steve rubbed his face and nodded. He was floating in outer space, blissfully peaceful with Billy’s weight holding him down. His whole body twitched with oversensitivity each time Billy’s dick plunged back inside him, but Steve circled his arms around his back, stroking his fingertips up his spine. He did feeling calmer now, less like he was gonna jump out of his skin.

“Missed you, Daddy,” he said, dragging his lips along his jawline and tugging on his silver earring with his teeth.

Billy was breathing hard again, humid puffs of air hitting the side of his neck. Steve’s cock gave a valiant twitch as he groaned in his ear. “Missed you, baby,” he whispered, licking up the sweat at the hollow of Steve’s throat and groaning again. “Missed my good little princess so bad.”

Their eyes met, sweat beading at Billy’s hairline and along his upper lip. He cupped Steve’s cheek, blue eyes impossibly dark. “I go fucking crazy,” he confessed, thumb sweeping through the dried trail of tears on his face. “Whenever I don’t get to hold my princess.”

_Billy cares about me_, Steve realized, stunned. It was suddenly hard to look away from him. _Billy cares. About me_.

“I-I go crazy,” he admitted, a tear escaping him as he reached up to touch Billy in return, tangling his fingers through the matted riot of blond curls. “When I think you’re gonna throw me away, Daddy.”

“_Little princess_,” Billy cooed, kissing at neck, and Steve’s heart pounded with excitement at this new discovery of his, this delicious hidden knowledge he possessed. “Ain’t gonna throw away my sweet baby boy.”

“I know that now,” Steve said, dragging his brittle fingernails across the planes of his back. Billy shuddered and he bit at his earlobe again. “Wanna-wanna make you feel good, Daddy.”

“Always make me feel good, baby,” he grunted, biting down on the patch of skin nearest to his mouth, right at Steve’s shoulder. “Princess’s pussy feels fuckin’ _made_ for Daddy’s cock.”

Steve wound his fingers through his hair and whispered in his ear, “Want Daddy to f-fill up my pussy.” Blushing at the extreme lengths of his own audacity, he dug his heels into Billy’s back and added: “Till I’m full of Daddy’s come, like last time. Leaking out into my panties.”

“Fucking _Christ_,” Billy croaked, forehead buried in Steve’s shoulder. His hips were moving frantically, chasing the pleasure found in his princess’s arms. “Daddy’s gonna, darlin’. Fill that sweet pussy up so good, ‘m gonna give my baby a baby.” 

“Oh god,” he whimpered, hands tightened their hold on him. In these situations, Steve went wherever he took him, and somehow he was still always surprised by how far Billy was willing to go.

Their mouths met in a messy kiss, Billy breaking away to press his face back into his shoulder with a loud, wordless moan. Steve petted through his hair and down his back, sighing “Billy, Billy.”

_I love you, Billy_.

“Baby, baby,” he sighed back, kissing his face. Maybe: _I love you, baby_.

Steve shrieked and then laughed when Billy picked them both off the floor and flopped onto the shredded up sofa, cushions left a bit worse for wear after encountering his hands. Billy fished his underwear off the floor, grinning with his tongue between his teeth. “Gotta keep that mess in your panties, princess.”

Heavily flushed, Steve snatched them back and yanked the ruffled underwear up his legs. How Billy managed to look so lustful watching him do this six seconds after he just came, he didn’t know. “Ya look like a dessert,” he purred, fingering all the silk and lace, squeezing at Steve’s ass beneath the ruffles. “Like somethin’ real tasty. Come here and keep Daddy warm, sweet thing.”

Steve straddled his lap, knees to either side of his hips, and sucked in a sharp shocked breath when Billy pulled his panties to one side and pushed his half-hard cock back inside his hole, this time wet with his own jizz. He arched his back, moaning softly as he rocked down on Billy’s lap. God, it just felt so good, so right to have him there, making Steve’s body ache in that dull sweet way. 

“Sorry, baby,” he told Steve, not sorry at all. “Can’t get enough of you. Wanna ride on Daddy’s lap?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, body tingling all over, griping Billy’s shoulders and briefly touching their lips together. Already Steve was rolling his hips down, working himself over his cock.

“Such a greedy, spoiled little boy,” Billy hissed through his teeth, squeezing Steve’s silky thighs. He wondered if the friction was hurting, if it was on the edge of too much, the way it had felt for him. “Fuck, you’re gonna milk Daddy dry, aren’t you, princess?”

“Yeah,” and this time, it was almost a whine, Steve grinding just a little harder, just a little faster. His eyelids flickered as Billy started gently rubbing his cock through the silk and lace, just grazing it with his knuckles, and Steve panted and moaned under his breath, heading lolling back. “It’s all mine, Daddy.”

He held Billy with hands cupping the back of his neck, letting his cock glide through his own come, splayed over his skin with the heat of a brand. Billy pulled Steve around him, reeling him in closer and closer, like he wanted to be a part of him, wholly and truly.

Steve wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His head was spinning, and he wanted to come so bad but he also never wanted to stop having Billy inside him, never wanted to stop having those blue eyes locked on his. But that callous on Billy’s thumb started rubbing his cock through the underwear. “Oh god, Billy,” he whispered, fingernails digging into his back. “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Oh, I hope so, baby.” He kissed messily over Steve’s collarbones. “Hope I make those pretty eyes roll back. Fuck, I wanna keep you like this, Stevie."

Steve clenched his teeth together, thighs shaking around Billy's waist. "Are you close?"

Billy licked up the sweat from his neck and his shoulders, making Steve shudder. "So fucking close, baby." Lightly, he set his teeth into the muscles and dug his fingers into Steve's ass. God, he was gonna be covered in marks from him and that was more exciting than it should be. "C'mon. _C'mon,_ princess. Lemme see ya make a fuckin' mess."

He let go of Billy to push back against the armrest, his other fist punching the back of the sofa. "Fuck," he cried, "Billy, I-"

He cut himself out before it slipped out, pulling at Billy's hair and crushing their mouths together, moaning louder when he felt the rush of wet heat and groaning that heralded Billy coming with him. 

The world goes a little fuzzy for him for a while after. Steve was still not sober, weighed down by exhaustion. He and Billy fell asleep on the sofa, Steve resting on his lap. Billy wrapped his arms around him and lazily stroked the curves of his ass and lower back. An hour, Steve stirred and tried to stand, but stayed trapped in place by Billy's grip on him. "Come on, Billy, I gotta pee."

"Mmm," Billy grunted, refusing to let go, eyelids shut.

His bladder twinges painfully and Steve whimpered. "Billy, come on. I need to use the bathroom."

"So go," Billy grumbled, holding him that much tighter.

"That isn't funny," he whined. _"Move."_

_"_I ain't laughing." His eyes finally opened. "You gotta piss, do it."

Steve's eyes darted around wildly. "But...I'm-I'm on you."

Fondly, Billy gave his ass a light slap and Steve hissed, bladder giving him another sharp twinge. "I know where you are."

"I'll get you dirty. Billy, please just let me up!" He pleaded, eyes watering with pain.

Billy kissed his cheek, lips wet with his tears. "You know I never mind you making a mess, princess." When Steve continued to stare, dumbfounded, he kissed him again and said seriously. "You ain't gotta worry about shit like that. Just do what Daddy tells you to, princess."

Billy chewed him up and spit him out and put him back together again. He had the perfect knack for ripping Steve to pieces, but only in the nicest way. Steve sobbed as the flood of it escaped him, and Billy hugged him and kissed him, a wild laugh, incredulous and delighted, coming from Billy's mouth. "Good boy," he cooed. "Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the periodic reminder that your author does not recommend doing the things in this story at home, since Billy initiates sex with someone he HAS to know isn't sober, Steve taunts Billy into aggression instead of asking for what he wants, and nobody involved has ever heard of the word 'communication' (or 'condom').


	10. it's a hell of a feeling, though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey...uh...there's so much child abuse here. yeah.
> 
> ...you can cure mental illness by ignoring it right?
> 
> (I’m just kidding please don’t ignore your mental health problems T_T)
> 
> This ending is very bittersweet for me, and I’m not entirely happy with it, but I hope you guys enjoyed the story overall - it’s a night (mostly) light-hearted bit of smut and fun!

_alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though  
it's a hell of a feeling though  
alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though  
it's a hell of a feeling though_

The princess’s legs shook so hard that Billy had to help him off the ruined sofa. _I did that_, he thought, feeling proud of himself and a little concerned at the same time. _I literally made him weak in the knees_.

The fucking had been pretty physically intense, but it shouldn’t have hit Steve quite this hard. Examining him, Billy looked past the nylons and the soaked panties. Beneath his embarrassed flush and eyes swollen from crying, Steve was super pale – paler than usual – and Billy didn’t think his waist was that narrow the last time he’d seen him. “When was the last you ate something, princess?”

“Uh…” Infuriatingly, Steve had to pause to think about that, and then shrugged carelessly. “I dunno. Sometime, I guess.”

Billy scowled at him and he shrank in on himself, looking chastened and miserable. And again, Billy thought _I did that_, much less pleased with himself this time around. Actually, he kinda felt like shit for doing it.

Steve was vulnerable, a mess of piss, spit, and jizz, degraded for Billy’s enjoyment, nearly naked to his almost fully clothed, and at his total mercy both emotionally and physically. Steve was no weakling, but they both knew which of them would win in a fist fight. Though having been told what Steve could and had done to the monsters of the Upside Down, Billy now suspected this was due to a reluctance to hurt actual humans rather than a lack of skill or force.

Wrapping an arm around his waist – yeah, it was definitely thinner than it used to be – Billy kissed his neck and murmured, “’s okay, baby. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

Princess shuddered, melting against Billy’s side. He nuzzled him back, letting Billy take his weight. “Kay, Daddy.”

Billy felt a surge of power and arousal that made his already raw dick give a strong twitch. Part of him wanted to stroke himself back to full hardness and see how loud his princess could scream, how much sound they could fill this empty husk of a house with. But Steve could barely stand up by himself. Billy had just promised to take good care of him, and using his aching body to get himself off again _wouldn’t_ be taking good care of him.

Nothing had ever belonged to Billy except a juvenile record back in Cali and the Camaro, and he treated the Camaro like his own fucking child. He wasn’t about to give his princess anything less than the royal treatment – unless he wanted to be pushed around, but even then, he was Daddy’s boy.

So, instead of doing that, Billy led Steve and his shaky legs into the guest bathroom on the ground floor and pulled him into a hot shower. He let the hot water fall down on them, warming the princess's cold wet skin as he knelt to unhook the stockings and garter and rolled the whole dirty set of fabric down his long legs. Fuck. If he weren’t so worried that Steve would lose his balance and brain himself on the tile, Billy would be so tempted to blow him.

“Just throw them away,” princess said dismissively, stepping out of the stockings and underwear by using Billy’s shoulder for support. “The nylons are torn anyway and we were a little too rough on the panties.”

“Oh no,” Billy rumbled, kissing along his prominently jutting hip bones. “I’m keeping these. If I’m by myself, I can wrap these delicious pretties ‘round my dick and think about my cute little princess, sittin’ on his Daddy’s lap all nice and tight.”

“Oh my _god_,” Steve mumbled, ducking his head, and Billy grinned.

“I just…” He stumbled, tripping over his words before he can say ‘I just love you so much’. “…just can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Whatever,” princess grumbled, but he gave Billy a kiss, tongue slipping out of a mouth pinker than sin, so he knew Steve couldn’t be _that_ annoyed.

He grumbled some more about his hair, which Billy kind of got why he was fussy about, so he let the princess wash it himself but he insisted on washing that hot body himself. He was covered in Billy, bruised up with purple-blue marks from his fingers on his neck, his thighs, his hips, and his ass, and red marks from Billy’s mouth and teeth across his neck and shoulders. Billy gave them all proper attention, made sure his princess was cleaned properly. “Stick out your ass.”

“Billy, c’mon…”

“Nope. Ass out. I gotta make sure you’re not torn, baby.” His body didn’t seem visibly damaged, but he kept squirming at Billy’s touch, oversensitive and embarrassed, and he could tell by the way Steve was moving and standing that he was gonna be sore for a while.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, and licked water droplets from Steve’s lower back, kissing his dimples. “Daddy was too rough with you, baby. I’m sorry.”

“’m okay,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the wet tiles and face hidden in his forearm.

Causing Steve pain because he was feeling horny and lazy wasn’t taking good care of him, either. Silently, Billy made a promise that he wouldn’t fuck him anymore unless he could find something that made more decent lube than spit or his own fucking spunk. There was no reason he couldn’t have put in an effort to find some lotion or even just some oil.

“Alright, princess,” he said, wrapping him in the fluffiest towel he’d ever encountered. Shit, no wonder the princess has such soft smooth skin. “Let’s get you tucked up in your bed.”

“I don’t want you to leave yet,” Steve whined, like a spoiled child.

It probably said something really fucked about his psychology that it only made him want to pamper and spoil the princess some more. (He already _knew_ there was something fucked up about letting Steve call him ‘Daddy’ and then spanking him, but he already knew he had daddy issues, it wasn’t that surprising.)

“Didn’t say I was leavin’ yet, did I?” He gave his butt a warning swat. “Now be a good boy, and do what Daddy tells you to.”

“Fine.” He pouted, but Billy knew he wasn’t upset. After nearly a year of ogling Steve, he knew when he was seriously angry and when he was play-acting just because he could.

Nobody had ever wanted Billy, nobody had ever _needed_ him, but Steve made him feel necessary to someone. It was pretty obvious that Billy’s rejection – or what he’d _perceived_ to be a rejection – had caused some kind of descent into depression and now that his brain was no longer clouded with lust, Billy could see that Steve was actually _really_ shitty about taking care of himself. Was this what Eleven meant, when she said that Steve needs a partner? 

Billy bundled him up in towels and fed him pieces of peanut butter on toast straight from his hand, washed down with a huge glass of water before marching Steve straight back to his own room.

“Let’s find something pretty for my princess to sleep in,” he purred, opening Steve’s ‘special’ drawer. He grinned, watching him sit on the bed, all shy, trying to cross his legs over his dick and balls, like he’s embarrassed even after Billy’s had his tongue in that tight ass and told the princess to piss on him. He teased, “Ah, aren’t you such a proper little lady? But I already seen all the goods, baby.”

Steve huffed, arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks going rose pink. “That doesn’t mean you have to _stare_.”

Billy crouched at the edge of the mattress, slid his hands up his white thighs, and pushed his legs apart. He let his eyes linger on everything, the soft cock and the balls covered in dark curls, the lean muscles, the smooth skin dotted with freckles and moles. His long eyelashes and candy pink lips, before he finally reached those big brown doe eyes.

He growled, “Oh, but I do. Anything as pretty as you are? I _gotta_ stare.” He tapped Steve’s thigh. “Chin held high, Stevie. You’re a princess, you don’t lower your eyes when you look at people, not even me. Keep your legs apart and your hands on the bed – you don’t get to deprive me of my princess, and you don’t get to tell me ‘no’.”

Steve shuddered and nodded, swallowing hard. He spread his legs wider, leaning back on his hands. Putting himself on display for Billy. He cooed, “Good boy. Good boy. Fuck, you are _so_ pretty.” He kissed his face, gently running his hand down Steve’s sides. “We can stop this whenever you want, but unless you don’t wanna play anymore, those are Daddy’s rules.”

Steve nodded again. He was biting on his lower lip, but he remembered Billy’s directive to keep his chin raised and his eyes up. Meekly, he asked “…will you stop fucking me if I don’t want to play anymore?”

Confused, Billy said “No. I’ll stop fucking you when you say you want me to stop fucking you. My dick has no problem getting hard for you without getting freaky, remember?”

Steve smiled shyly at him through his lashes. “Yes…Daddy.”

Billy shuddered. He wondered if that would ever get less spine-tingling. He was guessing ‘_no’_.

“Little boy,” he purred, and Steve gave a very satisfying squirm against the sheets, still displaying himself, though Billy could see his knees shifting, like he wanted to hold them closed again. He held out a fresh pair of panties – an adorable pair of white shorts covered in ruffles with a blue silk bow at the back that would rest right above the pert swell of his ass, like Stevie’s ass had won first prize. Well, it had in Billy’s books. “Lift your legs for daddy.” 

Of course he didn’t just put the panties on him – Billy reached down and groped his soft cock and squeezed his balls, relishing the low whimpers Steve made as he squirmed some more beneath him. “Daddy,” he whined, choking on his breath as Billy’s fingers slipped lower to tease his asshole. Eagerly, he watched Steve’s twitching cock make a heroic effort to get hard again. “Da-Daddy…”

“Poor little slut,” Billy cooed, “I really got you addicted to taking it up the ass, didn’t I, Stevie? Broke in that virgin pussy on my dick, and made it all mine. Turn around and show me what a pretty present you are, princess.”

When Steve does as ordered, all Billy could do was whisper “Fuck”, because _he was such a pretty present! _Ruffles clinging to his ass, silk bow tucked just below those perfect little dimples. Dumbstruck, Billy repeated “Fuck” and began kissing at them, tongue laving over his skin, relishing the taste and texture of nothing but warm clean skin – much better than the cool and chlorine-tinged flavor he’d had a couple of hours ago.

He found himself pulling the cotton ruffles back down below that sweet, generous curve of his princess’s ass so that he could grope and squeeze more of him. Spread him open to lick and kiss inside him, too.

Steve was panting and whimpering. “Please, Daddy,” his princess pleaded. “Not there – not with your mouth, that’s so dirty.”

“I told you, you don’t gotta worry about anything like that – don’t worry about anything but doing what Daddy tells you to, Stevie.” Billy enjoyed the hell out of the sound Steve made as he licked all the way up to his tailbone. Fuck, how was this skin so goddamn smooth? Slyly, he added, “And your pussy seems to love having Daddy’s attention, hm?”

“Oh god,” Steve whined, hugging the pillow, and did not attempt to argue with Billy anymore.

Billy kept to spread open, kept mouth wet and soft as he licked, sloppy and slow, to luxuriate in the experience of Steve’s muscles quivering beneath his hands.

He went after that good princess pussy, too. Nipping and nibbling at his tight little rim. Kissing his way into his hole and making Steve pant as he snaked his tongue inside. Billy pulled back and gave his ass a light slap, something to turn that perfect heart-shape pink, drawing a loud gasp from him. A slender hand began stroking the top of Billy’s head, and he glanced up toward Steve’s face to see that he was practically melting into the pillow he clutched, eyes closed and mouth open on a low soft moaning as he continued almost mindlessly petting Billy’s hair.

When Billy pulled away again, his princess sighed “…mm fuck me now?”, the relaxed question of someone nearly asleep rather than a command or a request.

He chuckled, stroking along that dimpled spine again before giving them one last goodbye kiss. “No, baby. You’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

“Don’t mind,” Steve murmured, and…well. Billy’s brows rose and his cock desperately tried to rise to the occasion.

He couldn’t deny that the idea of fucking Steve, totally pliant and lax with sleep, was incredibly appealing. He would be completely at Billy’s mercy, limbs heavy, a living doll for his pleasure, there to be used…

The idea filled him with a dark lust and a shiver went down his spine. Yep, they were definitely going to explore that later, preferably when Steve hadn’t agreed to it while already practically unconscious.

After tucking Steve’s perfect ass back into his fresh clean pretties, Billy realized that the only clothing he had left to go back into were his jeans and shirt, still in the middle of a dry cycle after being spattered with chlorinated pool water, lots of jizz and a healthy amount of piss. Shrugging, Billy went back to Steve’s ‘secret stash’ and laughed quietly to himself when he found a pair of red high-cut briefs with a velvet-like pattern of roses all over.

“Fuck it.” He wore his rose-red panties and stretched out next to his princess, arms possessively draped around his lower back. He kissed his shoulder, feeling sentimental and tender. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

And Steve sighed through his nose “..mm…Billy”, before rolling over to bury that big nose in Billy’s hair with another sweet, wordless sigh.

Fuckin’ paradise, man.

He could tell that Steve was surprised he was still there in the morning, but he wasn’t about to bring it up, because as bratty as his princess got when he was really pissed off, he was the sweetest honeypot in town when he was happy.

“Hi,” he said shyly, nosing at Billy’s hair. They were on the wrong side of the house for the sun to be streaming into the windows, yet, but it was beating high overhead – Billy would guess it was probably near noon.

“Hey,” he croaked, hoarse with sleep. “How’s my baby?”

“Mmm, good,” he said drowsily, lashes closing over his eyes again. He huffed sleepily and murmured “Wanna go back to sleep.”

Billy ran a hand over that silky smooth skin and then frowned when he was reminded again that Steve seemed a little skinnier than usual. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get you some breakfast.” His own stomach growled. “I’m fucking starving.”

Steve was…almost impossibly clingy as he made them breakfast – some very basic scrambled eggs, with a side of cold pizza, because Steve seemed to have fuck-all in his fridge, what the hell was that about? He draped himself over Billy’s back and shoulders, face buried in his neck. “I’m sore,” he whined, squeezing Billy’s waist. “My ass and legs hurt.”

“Yep, aren’t you glad I didn’t take your offer to fuck you in your sleep?” he asked dryly, stirring the eggs with one hand and massaging the curve of Steve’s ass with the other hand.

“It’s fine, I doubt a little more would’ve done any harm,” he replied, dismissive.

Billy dumped their scrambled eggs onto a plate and set the pan back on the stove before he grabbed Steve by the jaw. “I decide how much you hurt,” he rumbled, forcing those dark eyes to meet his directly. “Got that? And I decided that you weren’t gonna get more.”

Princess chewed his lip, trying to glance down before remembering Billy’s rule and letting his lashes fly open again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

He fed his princess in his lap, like the spoiled, pampered darling that he was, but Billy knew that he was really just delaying the inevitable.

He would need to go home and face Neil’s rage eventually.

A tiny part of Billy actually felt bad for leaving Steve this way - only telling him that he’ll probably be grounded again - but he had no idea what he would even say. For all that Steve could fight hell-world monsters with a tricked out baseball bat, there was still an innocence in him that Billy felt a weird urge to protect. Steve was an expert at the monsters that haunted the town in the nighttime, but Billy was the one who knew about the ones that were there in daylight. In a way, he felt it was his duty to keep those parts of his life separate from Steve. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t scared shitless, of course. By the time he turned out of the driveway and down the road, Billy was already in a cold sweat, fingers flexing uneasily on the steering wheel as the trees flew past. Part of him thought maybe it wasn’t even worth it to try going back home at all. He was (pretty) sure that Neil wasn’t going to kill him in the same way that he was (very) sure that he was gonna see exactly how close he could get without actually having Billy zipped into a body bag at the county morgue. 

But the exact same reasons he had for staying in Hawkins before all of this weird shit started happening - or at least, started happening where Billy could see it - still applied. None of those reasons had gone away just because Billy was in the biggest trouble he might have ever gotten into in his life. He’s never deliberately and intentionally disobeyed his father in such a blatant way before. 

The strangest part of all of this was that Billy still didn’t regret it. Even in the deepest parts of himself, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret breaking Neil’s restrictions to go to Steve when he needed him, especially after learning that the pool he’d been so casually swimming in would every so often turn into a portal to a hell world filled with man-eating monsters and parasitic vines that were super keen on molestation.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified, though, and just because he was expecting it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt.

For Billy, it started the moment he got out of the car – no, even before that. The moment that he killed the engine in the driveway, he felt the oppressive silence and weight of his impending doom. Like Neil was already there, already breathing down his neck.

He put extra concentration in the way he walked to the front door, not swinging his arms like a fairy, or looking too scared or too cocky. Eyes on the ground in front of him. Pulled his expression into something like neutral subservience – not too sniveling or teary but without any obvious will to fight back. Just right.

“Billy,” Susan said as he walked in, visibly surprised. “Where have you been!? We’ve been worried sick!”

He sincerely doubted that. Max might’ve been worried. Maybe. ‘Worry’ is not the mood he’d attribute to the overall household.

He has his lie all prepared, built on the drive over.

“Covered for Heather’s shift and pulled a double,” he said casually, without looking in his father’s direction, though he can feel the heat of his furious stare, like standing in direct sunlight at high noon. In Death Valley. “Spent an hour cryin’ on all over me this morning over some shit her boyfriend did – finally told her I’d help her out just so’s she’d shut up.”

“Language,” Neil barked and Billy flinched out of reflex.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to no one, then on the very slim off-chance it might keep him from being slaughtered when Max and Susan went to bed, meekly added “Sir.”

Max breezed past, taking a peach from the bowl on the counter. “See,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her red hair. “I told you he’s probably at work.”

Billy could kiss Max for her attempts at covering for him, and throttle her for her reckless attitude and mouthing off. Shit, he can’t ever leave her here. Neil would goddamn murder her the moment Billy’s back was turned if that was the way she tried to talk to his father.

Neil was giving him the Death Valley stare again in was all Billy could do to stay standing there. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It wasn’t gonna matter how nice his manners were, Neil would find a reason. He always did. “Why didn’t you tell your mom or your sister where you went?”

His mind was so numb with terror that his usual urge to deny that Susan was his mother didn’t even come up. These days, he didn’t mind Max being called his sister so much. “Uh, thought I could talk Charlie into doin’ the second half for me,” he lied quickly, and then hastily added another, “Sir.”

“Billy, can’t you fix that faucet in the second bathroom for me, honey?” Susan said, continuing to wash the potatoes in the kitchen sink.

Oh christsake, he might actually have to start liking Susan at this rate. The least he could do was let that repulsive ‘honey’ thing slide.

“Yep, no problem,” he said, taking the chance to flee from his father’s stare.

It didn’t last, and Billy knew it wouldn’t. He laid in bed that night, each muscle nearly cramped with tense anticipation.

Somehow, between one breath and the next, he fell asleep. Activities from late the night before and into the next morning hadn’t allowed for much rest and the constant terror during the day had taken its toll on him.

He rolled over and realized that the sun was already almost fully risen. Billy rubbed his gritty eyes, teeth bared angrily at the sound of twittering birds outside his window. Perky little fuckers. He hated ‘em.

“Isn’t that just like my useless faggot son, hiding behind a woman,” his father said from the doorway, and his blood went cold.

The first blow was a surprise, catching Billy between the shoulders while his back was turned and sending him, face first, right back onto the mattress.

The rest weren’t a surprise at all, but they hurt him just as much. Billy had just enough presence of mind to cover his head with his arms, but was otherwise unable to do anything but put his face into the pillow and endure it until Neil got tired of beating the shit out of him (hopefully sooner rather than later), when a voice outside of his window said “Freeze. Hands up.”

The punches stopped and Billy laid there, heart beating frantically against his ribcage as the Chief of Police “Hawkins P.D.,” Hopper drawled, “And here I thought I was just investigating which hoodlum had cut the heads off of Mrs. Tate’s peonies. You having any trouble there, Mr. Hargrove?”

“Just keeping up with good discipline, Chief Hopper,” Neil explained with a falsely paternal frown. “I’ve got a bit of a wild child on my hands.”

The cops out in California ate that shit up. They would’ve given a warning to be more discrete and offered to ‘keep an eye out’ for Billy. In Indiana, he was fucking doomed. Dead meat.

Except that he kept forgetting that they were not just in Indiana, they were in Hawkins, where every-fucking-thing was turned upside down and inside out. “Hm,” Hopper rumbled, looking at Billy with a critical, gimlet eye. “In my experience, a wild child is raised by a careless parent, Mr. Hargrove. And you don’t strike me as careless.”

“His mother’s doing,” Neil said with an oily, disappointed-seeming smile – though Billy hadn’t seen in nearly ten years and had barely spoken to her in the last five.

“I see,” Hopper said, then horrified Billy further. “Why don’t you go wait in my truck, Billy. Now that you’re outta school, I think it’s time to have a little talk about the way things work around here. Go on, I need a minute a with your dad.”

“Now, Chief, I don’t know if that’s really necessary.” Shit. Was he about to be fucking arrested for getting hit? Even Neil looked a bit concerned now – though most of that was half an act.

“Oh, I just want to make sure Billy realizes what kind of place I’m runnin’ here,” Hopper said, not looking any friendlier. “This ain’t California, so it’s not gonna be the way it used to for him.”

Daring a glance at the Chief, Billy took one look at his hard stare and knew he would not be able to talk his way out of this. He swallowed the bitter words rising in the back of his throat and instead located his jeans, socks, and shoes, and made his way out toward the road where the Chief’s ugly truck was parked.

Lost in the stomach-turning panic of wondering what Hopper was going to do to him, Billy opened the back of the cab and gaped at Eleven, perched on the wide seat in her geometric bathing suit and holding out an ice cream cone in his direction. His stomach felt sick, half of his face and most of his back were in throbbing pain, and he just stared at her stupidly.

“It’s melting,” she said reproachfully, slurping her own vanilla cone.

The one she held out was strawberry. Billy didn’t even ask how she knew what his favorite flavor was.

“What…the fuck…are you doing?” he demanded. “Hopper’s about to goddamn-”

He immediately cut himself off. The girl didn’t need to know that her surrogate father was gonna fucking murder him whenever he got finished schmoozing with Neil. Whatever happened to him was not Eleven’s problem, and even though El had obviously seen some shit, she was still innocent enough to believe that most adults were good and nonsense like that.

“Rescue,” El said simply, gleefully crunching down her cone.

Numbly, Billy took the slowly melting cone - waffle, classy and shit, not just the cheap plasticky sugar cones that were more like sweetened cardboard than any recognizable food. El watched him slowly eat it, looking suspiciously proud of herself. This day was so bizarre that even Hopper stomping back to the truck couldn’t bring back his dread. A dark silence hung over him but oddly, as he looked up, it began to diminish as he approached them. Giving Billy a strange look, he said “Why are loitering around outside? Get in. We got shit to do.”

”We do?”

“We’re beating up Russians.” Eleven smiled at him brightly, nose all scrunched up real cute. “What’s a commie?”

Hopper rubbed his nasal bridge like a man who’d been badgered out of a bed at 6 am and was sorely in need of coffee. Don’t get him wrong - leaving Neil Hargrove practically shitting his pants for beating the crap out of his own kid had been terribly satisfying, but there was only so much a man could endure before 8 o’clock. “You’re never allowed to watch another movie ever, for as long as I live.” Then he sighed. “Let’s go pick up Harrington.”

Billy’s body language was unsubtle, immediately perking up as elbowed in next to El. 

Hopper sighed and rolled his eyes to himself in the mirror. Fucking teenagers, man. Christ.


End file.
